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URBANE AND HIS 
FRIENDS. 


FAMILIAR TALKS ON SUBJECTS RELATING TO 
THE SPIRITUAL LIFE. 




By Mrs. E. PRENTISS, 


FLOWER OF THE FAMILY, ETC., ETC. 


“Great peace have they that love Thy law, and nothing shall offend them.” 
“ Ways of pleasantness and paths of peace.” 


X 0 


tr 







NEW AND ENLARGED EDITION. 





„ MAY ly 1887 V 

/ 1 f r x <J A*. 

^ op washing" ^ 


NEW YORK: 

ANSON D. F. RANDOLPH & COMPANY, 

38 west twenty-third street. 










COPYRIGHT, 1874, BY 

A. D. F. Randolph & Company. 


COPYRIGHT, 1887, BY 
A. D. F. Randolph & Company. 


Urban£ is an aged pastor , and his Friends are 
members of his flock , whom he had invited to meet him 
from week to week for Christian counsel and fellow- 
ship. Some of their names , Antioqhus, Hermes, 
Junta, Claudia, Apelles, and the like , sound rather 
strange ; but , together with those more familiar, they 
are all borrowed from the New Testament . 



/ - 



NOTE TO THE NEW EDITION. 


The issue of this new edition of URBANE AND 
HIS Friends suggests a word of explanation respect- 
ing the design and character of the work. Its key- 
note may be found in the following extract from the 
Life of Mrs. Prentiss: 

The surest way, as she thought, of rising above the 
bondage of “ frames ” and entering into the glorious 
liberty of the sons of God, is to become fully con- 
scious of our actual union to Christ and of what is 
involved in this thrice-sacred union. It is not enough 
that we trust in Him as our Saviour and the Lord 
our Righteousness ; He must also dwell in our hearts 
by faith as our spiritual life. The union is indeed 
mystical and indescribable, but none the less real or 
less joy-inspiring for all that. We want no metaphor 
and no mere abstraction in our souls ; we want Christ 
Himself. We want to be able to say in sublime con- 
tradiction, “ I live , yet not /, but Christ liveth in me.” 
And this, too, is the way of sanctification, as well as 
rest of conscience. For just in proportion as Christ 
lives in the soul, self goes out, and with it sin. Just 
in proportion as self goes out, Christ comes in, and 
with Him righteousness, peace, and joy in the Holy 
Ghost. But as, in her view, the doctrine of an in- 
dwelling Christ did not supplant the doctrine of an 
atoning and interceding Christ, so neither did it sup- 
plant that of Christ as our Example or annul the 
great law of self-sacrifice by which, following in His 
steps, we also are to be made perfect through suffer- 
ing. 

Such is a brief outline of her teaching on this 
subject in “Urbane and his Friends.” And from its 


2 NOTE TO THE NEW EDITION. 

publication until her death, her theory of the way of 
holiness reduced itself more and more to these two 
simple points : Christ in the flesh showing and teach- 
ing us how to live, and Christ in the Spirit living in us.. 
And this presence of Christ in the soul she regarded, I 
repeat, as an actual, as well as actuating, presence ; 
mediated indeed, like His sacrifice upon the cross, by 
the Holy Ghost. But as “ through the Eternal Spirit 
He offered Himself without spot unto God,” even so, 
in and through the same Eternal Spirit, He Himself 
comes and takes up His abode in the hearts of His 
faithful disciples. His indwelling is not a mere 
metaphor, not a bare moral relation, but the most 
blessed reality — a veritable union of life and love. 
She thought that much of the meaning and comfort 
of the doctrine is sometimes lost by not keeping 
this point in mind. In a letter written not long before 
her death, she reiterated very strongly her conviction 
on this subject, appealing to our Lord's teaching in 
the seventeenth chapter of John: “I in them, and 
Thou in Me, that they may be made perfect in one.” * 

Urbane and his Friends has had a wide cir- 
culation and been a great favorite among seekers 
after God. To the original work a chapter has now 
been added, consisting of letters to Christian friends 
never before published. These letters touch upon 
points similar to those discussed in the rest of the 
book, but were written under the pressure of experi- 
ence rather than in the way of reflection. For this 
reason they have a fresh interest and value. 

G. L. P. 

New York, Febmary i, 1887. 


* “The Life and Letters of Elizabeth Prentiss,” p. 433. 


CONTENTS 


Introduction, 

• • • • 1 

• 

5 

CHAPTER I. 

The Meeting and its Design, . . 

e 

ii 

The Bible, . 

CHAPTER II. 

• • • • C 

• 

16 

CHAPTER III. 

The Apostolic Christian, . . . 

• 

29 

Fallen Man, 

CHAPTER IV. 

• • • • • 

• 

43 

Sin, 

CHAPTER V. 

• • • • 

• 

51 

Temptation, 

CHAPTER VI. 

• • • • • 

• 

n 

The Mystics. 

CHAPTER VII. 

.... 

• 

S 3 

The Mystic of 
tian Life, 

CHAPTER VIII. 

To-Day; or, “The Higher 
» 

• • • • 

Chris- 

• 

99 

A.n Allegory, . 

CHAPTER IX. 

• • • • 

t 

119 

Stephanas and 

CHAPTER X. 

Hermes, . 

• 

124 


( 3 ) 


4 


CONTENTS, 






Faith, . 

CHAPTER XI. 

. • 137 

Prayer, 

CHAPTER XII. 

• • • • 

. . 147 

Obedience, 

CHAPTER XIII. 

• • • 

. • 1 66 

CHAPTER XIV. 

Christian Service, 

. . 178 

CHAPTER XV. 

Urbane and Antiochus, 

. . 192 

Antiochus, 

CHAPTER XVI. 

• • • • 

• . 204 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Indwelling Christ, 

. . 215 

Junia, 

CHAPTER XVIII. 

• • • • 

• . 226 

CHAPTER XIX. 

Pain and Sorrow, 

• • 233 

Junia Again, 

CHAPTER XX. 

• • • • 

• • 253 

Helvia, . 

CHAPTER XXL 

• • • 

• • 257 

Peace and Joy, 

CHAPTER XXII. 

• • • t 

• . 268 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
Letters to Christian Friends, 

to 

00 

00 



INTRODUCTION. 


URBANE. 

• 

“ Christian saw the picture of a very grave person hung up 
against the wall, and this was the fashion of it: it had oyes lifted 
up to heaven, the best of books in his hand, the law of truth was 
written on his lips, the world was behind his back ; it stood as if it 
pleaded with men, and a crown of gold did hang over his head.” 

OT very unlike this portrait, is that of one 
whom we now introduce under a fictitious 
name. Urbane is no longer young; he has 
been a Christian pastor for more than thirty 
years. During all that time, he has been listening to 
lamentations and confessions without number, from those 
professing the name of Christ. Doubts, difficulties, sins, 
failures, sometimes agonizing temptations and falls, have 
met him everywhere ; yet he has said to himself, “ Man’s 
chief end is to glorify God and enjoy Him forever. 
But are most of the men and women under my in- 
fluence, glorifying Him ? And are they enjoying Him ? 
And if not, why not ? ” He pondered and prayed over 

( 5 ) 



* 


6 


INTRODUCTION. 


these questions for years, meanwhile preaching Christ from 
week to week, out of the depths of an experience that 
made his face to shine as he spake of Him ; the conse- 
quence of which was, that ever and anon, a man or a 
woman would come to him with such language as this : 

“ I know I ought to love to read the Bible, but I do 
not.” “ I get no answers to my prayers.” “ I am tormented 
with doubts ; I fear I am not regenerate.” “ My easily- 
besetting sins overcome me ; I get no dominion over 
them ” “ I have lost my property, and am anxious to 

know what I have done to make God so angry with me.” 
“ My children are disobedient and ungrateful and worldly. 
Why am I so unfortunate ? ” 

Again and again, Urbane tried to explain and do away 
with these difficulties ; they confronted him in all direc- 
tions, until at last, he bethought himself of devoting one 
evening in each week to instructions more colloquial and 
simple than those of the pulpit, and thus meet the wants 
so painfully felt and expressed. 

His plan was to set his young people upon the study of 
the Bible, in place of the careless habit of mechanical 
reading, so much the evil of the day. And while he did 
not pretend to strike out new and original thoughts, his 
living voice had a power that cannot be reproduced 
upon paper. Imagine a man of three-score years, every 
inch a man, and yet with feminine sweetness in his face : 
imagine a form dilating, at times, as earnest thought filled 
and expanded it ; behold one that has “ seen the Lord,’ 
standing up week after week, year after year, to “ plead 


INTRODUCTION. 


7 


with men” to look also and live, and you have a faint 
idea of one whose passion was his Christ. He had caught 
up no new and popular doctrine, but what he spake he 
knew. He had been down into a mine, and patiently 
sought there for hid treasure ; he had come up to share 
his silver and his gold with whoever would accept 
them from his hand. No one man knew his whole life. 
One could say, “ He has talked and prayed with me, 
urging me to self-consecration, a score of times.” And 
another, “ When I was sick he came unto me, and brought 
sunshine into my room, for weeks and months.” And 
another, “ He snatched me out of a career that was about 
to ruin my soul ; it cost him prayers and tears and sleep- 
less nights ; but he lavished them upon me.” “ To me he 
came when I was poor, and a stranger; he took me by 
the hand and encouraged me,” could be said by yet 
another, “ he gave me the very coat from his back, and 
the shoes from his feet.” “ He poured wine and oil into the 
wounds of a guilty conscience, he was my son of consola- 
tion, when I was weeping over a new-made grave ; I owe 
him life-long devotion.” 

Yet no such language was heard. Urbane did his work, 
not to be seen of men, but of God ; his right hand knew 
not what was done by the left ; he had no thirst for human 
praise ; he rarely thought or spoke of himself, but hid him- 
self humbly away behind his Lord. 

It has been thought that the conversations held in the 
study of this Christian pastor, might meet the wants of a 
class always existing in the Church, who are dissatisfied 


8 


INTRODUCTION. 


with themselves, yet not satisfied with Christ ; who would 
style themselves, as 

“ Grovelers below, yet wanting will to rise ; 

Tired of the world, unfitted for the skies.” 

Most of those who attended the meetings regularly 
were young, yet not of the youngest ; there were profes 
sional men and business men ; there were wives and moth- 
ers, who came thirsting for the truth. Others, eager to 
harmonize their two separate masters, God and Mammon, 
Christ and self, came and went, came and went. If there 
was no ball or festival, they would come idling into 
Urbane’s library, personal friendship and respect for him 
being quite as much their impelling motive, as any other 
Then there were some who had found life a disappoint- 
ment, a failure, and came for healing. 

There were two friends whose presence he always de- 
sired, fancying they could sometimes state a truth more 
happily than himself. Philologus was a man of less pliable 
character than Urband, but he was one who studied the 
Word of God with great diligence ; his Greek Testament, 
amply interleaved, and enriched with careful notes in his 
own hand, bore witness to no common research. Claudia 
had been the friend of both from her youth up. She was 
one of the least among petite women ; not a dwarf, but a 
perfect little fairy, and the brightest of souls looked out of 
her shining eyes ; once seen, she was never to be forgotten 
if you met her in a picture gallery, hers was the image you 
carried away with you, and wished most you could hang 
on your walls. 


INTRODUCTION. 


9 


She had long been a widow, and her home was with a 
married daughter, who had fitted up a room for her in hei 
own house, with graceful, dainty hands; here the aged 
saint meditated on the Word, day and night; here she 
held communion with her God and Saviour in prayer ; here 
she wrote letters of love and counsel, and hence went forth 
the alms-deeds that she did. 

“ Now the name of that chamber was Peace.” 

















. 4 * - 



















• •• 








- 












\ir 














- /•** 

















,! *• 

































































































CHAPTER I. 

THE MEETING AND ITS DESIGN. 

OU have come here to-night, my 
friends,” said Urbane, “at my invi- 
tation, and I will proceed, at once, to 
state my reasons for calling you to- 
gether. From time to time, during my whole 
pastoral experience, I have been pained by the 
sighs of those whose path in the divine life has 
been up the ‘ Hill Difficulty,’ and through a wil- 
derness where no water is. Now this weariness 
and painfulness is not the plan of God ; He has 
designed a more excellent way. I shall not at 
tempt to disguise the fact that our existence upon 
earth is a period of probation and discipline, but 
I hope also to show that the peace promised by 
Christ was mtended by Him as our present in 
heritance. It will be my purpose to glance, in an 

(») 



12 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


informal way, at some of the objects of our faith 
to increase your reverence for the Word of God, 
to persuade you to newness of life and to make 
Christ your All-in-all. It is true that this is the char- 
acter of my preaching, and men may say that hav- 
ing done my duty in the pulpit, I may leave you 
to your own consciences. But my present atti- 
tude towards you is not so much one of duty as 
of love. You are, most of you, my spiritual chil- 
dren, and, as such, your interests are dear to me 
as my own. I want you to reach the measure of 
the stature of the fullness of Christ. Questions of 
the day will come up from time to time, and I 
shall be glad to hear your views of them and to 
give you mine. And I propose that, before enter- 
ing upon our discussions, we should, each evening, 
observe a moment or two of silent prayer, and that 
at the close of the meetings there should be one 
or more prayers, according as the Spirit gives you 
utterance.” 

There is peculiar solemnity in silent, social 
prayer, and the little company now engaged in it 
were not novices in the devout act Urban6 was 
in the habit of beginning his weekly prayer-meet- 
ings thus, and of closing his sacramental services 
in the same way. 

There were various types of character repre- 
sented here, as will gradually become apparent 


THE MEETING AND ITS DESIGN. 1 3 

And it will be seen that Urban6 permitted the 
conversations to become, sometimes, discursive ; 
one man starting a thought not necessarily evolved 
from the subject under discussion, and claiming 
attention to it as, at the moment, occupying his 
mind. It may be added, too, that the labor spent 
by Urban6 on these young Christians does not all 
appear in these pages. He was sought by many 
of them for more personal conversations ; to some 
he wrote letter after letter, and their slowness and 
dullness did not weary, nor their impatience mis- 
lead him ; there lay at the bottom of his heart a 
love for Christ that made the smallest service for 
Him a delight. 

The first meeting was quite a lively one. Ur- 
bane-furnished slips of paper, on which each should 
write a list of the subjects he or she desired to 
have presented. 

A specimen may as well be given. 

“ Can you tell me why I do not love the Bible 
more ? ” 

“ What is the origin of evil ?” 

“ How perfect may we expect to become ? ” 

“ Why is prayer a weariness to so many ? ” 

“ Is it a very bad sign to dislike prayer-meetings ?” 

“ What are innocent amusements ?” 

“ How far should Christians be separate from 
the world ? ” 


14 URBANfi AND HI? FRIENDS. 

“ Why are there so few really happ}^ people?’* 

This is a specimen of the knotty questions Ur- 
oan6 was called upon to solve ; and a somewhat 
dubious smile was his reply to each as he read it. 

“ I presume that we may touch upon some of 
these subjects,” he said, “ but they will come in 
among grayer ones. I will, as far as possible, 
shape my plan in reference to them. But, first of 
all, I desire to persuade you to study the Word of 
God more faithfully than you have been in the 
habit of doing.” 

Not much more was done on this evening ; and 
after the young people had withdrawn, their three 
elders remained, talking over the puerili'y of many 
of the questions presented, and planning the best 
methods of future procedure. 

“ Of course, I do not mean to propound a system 
of theology,” said Urbane, “ but to give my general 
theory of £he Christian life, and remove doubts and 
difficulties as far as I can do so. I shall put great 
dependence on your prayers.” 

“ I was singularly conscious of the presence of 
the Spirit in our silent prayer this evening,” said 
Claudia, 

“So was I,” said Urbane. “How wonderfully 
and beautifully our Lord responds to our pool 
little attempts to serve Him ! ” 

“And it is all so humbling ! ” said Ciaudia. 


THE MEETING AND ITS DESIGN. 1 5 

“ What subject do you propose to take up next 
week?” asked Philologus. 

“ The Bible itself. Unless I can convince our 
young people of its claims, and make them study 
its truths for themselves, they will never be strong, 
wise believers — ijever.” 

“ I suppose they will fluctuate in numbers ? ” 

“ Of course. But as long as a single soul comes, 
I mean to devote the evening to that soul.” 

“Amen ! ” said Claudia. 



CHAPTER II. 

THE BIBLE. 

WISH to devote this evening,” said 
[Jrban6, “ to consideration of the 
Bible, and the frequent complaints oi 
want of love for the Word of God. 
These lamentations come from those whose piety 
1 cannot doubt, and most of whom force them- 
selves to the task of daily reading a chapter or 
more. The difficulty does not lie in the fact that 
the Bible is not adapted to their wants, or that 
they entirely lack the spirituality requisite to true 
comprehension of its meaning. I am inclined to 
think that very often the evil lies here ; too large 
a portion is read at one time, and the mind thus 
fails to grasp truths it does not weigh and ponder. 
Now, the Word is a mine of gold; but to reach 
this treasure we must go down into the depths, 
with the pickax on the shoulder, and patiently 
work now this vein, now that.” 

“ That will do for men of leisure,” said Hermes, 
* but not for me.” 

(i 6) 




THE BIBLE. I J 

“ Yet you read the Scriptures daily, do you 
not?” asked Philologus. 

“At family worship, of course,” was the reply. 

“ Could you not find time to study one clause ol 
a verse each day ? ” asked Urbane. 

“ Do you really imagine that such a trifling 
exercise as that would yield any fruit?” asked 
Hermes, with a contempt he could not conceal. 

“ I should like to have you give it a fair trial,” 
said Urbane, quietly, and well knowing that this 
trifling exercise, if honestly continued, would ripen 
into a more earnest one. 

“ We receive the Bible,” said Philologus, “ too 
much like a cup from which we may carelessly 
drink, imbibing refreshment, as a matter of 
course.” 

“ My great difficulty,” said Apelles, “ lies chiefly 
in a fearful inability to claim its promises. I have 
been such a poor sinner, so unworthy the divine 
regard, that I dare not believe that these words of 
love are for me.” 

“ May I ask,” said Urban6, “ for whom they are 
intended ? ” 

“ Well, I suppose, love is for the beloved.” 

“And are not you among that number? Has 
not Christ done infinitely more for you than simply 
make pleasant promises? Has He not died for 

you?” 


l8 


URBANS AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ I must believe that He has, or sink in despair. 
I do believe it with my head, but not, as I want to 
do, with my heart.” 

“ I like the grand old prophecies,” said Hermes. 
“ I like to read about Old Testament saints. But 
I feel about the promises as Apelles does.” 

“Yet it is not presumptuous to appropriate 
them,” said Urban6. “ Their force and beauty 
grow out of the character of God, and have noth- 
ing whatever to do with our worthiness or unwor- 
thiness. Not to believe this is to make Him a liar. 
Of course, no man on earth has a right to the 
smallest crumb of divine bounty: we cannot think 
too humbly of our claims to it. On the other hand, 
we cannot too much magnify the bounty and opu- 
lence of our Lord. We are 

“ ‘ So dear, so very dear to God, 

Dearer we cannot be ; 

For, in the person of His Son, 

We are as dear as He.’ ” 

“ I cannot realize that,” said Apelles. 

“We must study the character of God,” replied 
Urbane. % 

“ You seem disposed to turn us all into students,” 
said Hermes. “ Now, I have always thought re- 
ligion a matter of the emotions ; and not being my- 
self an emotional man, supposed I never could 
become a live Christian.” 


THE BIBLE. 


19 


“ I hcpe, in the course of our conversations, to 
convince you that religion is far from dwelling in 
so low a region as the fluctuating feelings of hu 
manity,” was the reply. 

“ For my part, “ said Apelles, “ I envy those who 
love and feast upon the Bible ; for, though I 
speak it with shame, I am lacking in that love. I 
read a passage every day, of course, in my closet, 
and again in my family, but not as my old father 
did. Once, when he thought himself unobserved, 
he has been seen to press the sacred book to his lips. 
And on her death-bed, my mother called for her’s, 
and took leave of it as tenderly as she said farewell 
to her children.” 

“ That precious memory,” said Urban6, will, 
sooner or later, make this book as dear to you, my 
friend.” * 

“ I wish I could believe that,” he replied. 

“ How David loved the Word!” said Claudia. 
“ He says : 1 I opened my mouth and panted • for 
I longed for Thy commandments/ ‘ My soul 
breaketh for the longing it hath unto Thy judg- 
ments at all times/ 4 How sweet are Thy words 
unto my taste ; yea, sweeter than honey unto my 
mouth/ Are there not Christians in our own day 
who can use similar language ? ” 

“ Undoubtedly there are,” said Urbane. 

“ ITw many, I wonder?” asked Hermes. 


20 


urban£ and his friends. 


“As many,” replied Urban6, “as can say 
‘ Whom have I in heaven but Thee, and there is 
none upon earth that I desire beside Thee.’ ” 

“ You think, then, that love to God and love for 
His Word run parallel with each other?” said 
Apelles. 

“ I am afraid,” was the reply, “ if Christ should 
return to this earth in human form, and go about 
preaching such doctrines as are taught in the 
Bible, that after the natural curiosity to see and 
hear Him had been gratified, the mass of men 
would weary of His teachings, just as they weary 
of the Bible now.” 

“ But think what crowds He drew ! ” said 
Amplias. 

“ But these crowds were not attracted merely 
by His instructions,” replied Urbane. “ They 
came to be healed of all manner of diseases and 
infirmities.” 

“And our own case is analogous to theirs,” said 
Claudia. “We go to His written Word because 
we find ourselves infirm in wisdom and knowledge, 
and because we are sin-sick and miserable.” 

“Yes; just in proportion to a Christian’s con- 
sciousness of his ignorance and sinfulness, will he 
consult and ponder over the truths of revelation,” 
said Urban6. 

“ It remains, then, for me to get greatet dis 


THE BIBLE. 


21 


coveries of mine. And how am I to do that?* 
cried Apelles. 

“ May I ask you to seek an answer to that ques« 
tion by turning to James i. 5 ? ” 

“ It is not necessary to turn to that familiar pas- 
sage, for I can repeat it : 4 If any of you lack wis- 
dom, let him ask of God, that giveth to all men 
liberally, and upbraideth not, and it shall be given 
him.’ Of course, I do this every day. And, by 
the by, I hope we may study up the subject ot 
prayer some evening.” 

“ Nothing could be more timely,” said Urban6. 

“ Have you any suggestion to make as to our 
private study of the Word?” asked Amplias. “I 
have been greatly baffled in getting light on dif 
ferent passages. I inherited a theological library 
from a relative, and am continually seeking informa- 
tion from commentaries. But I do not remember 
a single instance where I found what I sought. 
The passage that mystified me had been, appar- 
ently, as unintelligible to the author l consulted.” 

“ Coleridge says,” replied Philologus, “ that 
when commentators come to difficult passages, 
they usually give their understandings a holiday.” 

“ One pleasant and profitable method of Biblical 
study is opened to us in the delightful volumes in 
which each verse has its own references printed 
with it,” said Urbane. “And some persons pre- 


22 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


pare a book in which they gather passages which 
they believe may be classified under one head.” 

“Which they believe may be thus classified?” 
repeated Apelles. 

“ I refer, in that remark, to the fact that men are 
prone to form theories, and then collect portions 
of Scripture to support those theories. It is to be 
deplored that this is the case. You can make de- 
tached passages prove almost everything. This 
shows the importance of searching the Scriptures, 
and of doing that in a child-like, teachable temper, 
waiting upon God at every step for the illumina- 
tion of His Spirit.” 

“All Scripture is given by inspiration of God, 
and is profitable for doctrine, for reproof, for cor- 
rection, for instruction in righteousness,” said Phi- 
lologus. “ How many men go to it to get these 
four gifts ? ” 

“And I wonder,” said Hermes, “ who has time 
for such research ? I never have had, for one. 
To tell the truth, I have never made the Scrip- 
tures a study until now. On week days my busi- 
ness absorbs all my time and thoughts ; on Sun- 
days I have my two mission-classes, and listen to 
two sermons. It has always seemed to me the 
business of the clergy to interpret the meaning of 
the Word to us hard workers. They have nothing 
else to do ; and while we are knocking about the 


THE BIBLE. 23 

world, they can study at their leisure, and gire u3 
the results.” 

“ There is not a true man among them,” said 
Urbane, “ who would like to take the responsi- 
bility of doing your thinking for you. We have 
our treasure in earthen vessels. The fact that a 
man is a learned theologian and a minister does 
not make him infallible. He may misinterpret 
Scripture, and so be a blind teacher of the blind.” 

u My opinions,” said Hermes, “ on most subjects, 
are decided. The truths of the Bible have been 
familiar to me from* my childhood.” 

“ I know it,” replied Urban6 ; “ but familiarity 
with truth is not enough. Your having a medi- 
cine-chest in your house, with whose contents 
you are acquainted, does not, of itself, heal your 
diseases. Let us look at our fallen human race for 
a moment, as we should be if no divine revelation 
had been made to us. Launched upon the sea of 
life, a company of voyagers without chart or com- 
pass, we should be as ignorant of our origin and of 
our destination as the beasts that perish. Joy would 
be a mockery, for it would be without reason, and 
would apparently end with life. Pain and sor- 
row would put on the uncompromising form of 
dark, mysterious fate. Some amiable instincts 
might here and there adorn our lives; but, at the 
best, we should be amiable heathen, without hope 


24 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


and without God. We should create a divinity in 
our own unsanctified imaginations, or form him of 
wood, or stone, or brass ; we should find him in a 
river, and fling our living treasures into his bosom, 
hoping to appease his fancied wrath. Incapable of 
holy conceptions, we should make our king and 
lord superior to ourselves only in power and in 
crime ; we should fear, but never love him. Life 
would be one long, irritating problem, whose end 
would be inexorable graves, into which we should 
be thrown by despairing hands, for eternal separa- 
tion from all we loved, all who loved us, if indeed 
we allow that love, in any nobility of sentiment, 
could exist in hearts that know not God.” 

“ How little 1 have realized all this ! ” said 
Apelles. “ How dull and tedious have been most 
of the hours I have spent over this Book ! Is the 
Church of Christ largely made of such men as I ? 
I hope not.” 

“ But don’t you see that this very first meeting of 
ours is bearing fruit ? Surely our Lord is smiling 
on our attempt to magnify His goodness and wis- 
dom in giving us the written Word. I do hope 
and pray that one result of these evenings together, 
may be a spirit of gratitude for all His gifts, as 
they come up before us.” 

“ These remarks,” said Amplias, “ are, to my mind 
very suggestive, and have already awakened with 


THE BIBLE. 


25 


in me an interest in Foreign Missions hitherto un- 
known. I had never reflected much on that subject, 
or realized the miserable condition of a nation or an 
individual ignorant of revealed truth. Because I 
had known it from a child, I have undervalued it.” 

“ We are prone to undervalue all our gifts. Sup- 
pose we run lightly — for we have time for nothing 
more — over some of the truths for the want of 
which we should suffer, had no revelation been 
made to us. In the first place, we should know 
nothing of God as our Heavenly Father, or of 
Christ, or the Holy Ghost.’’ 

“ Nor of immortality,” said Hermes. 

“ And next to nothing of ourselves,” said Apelles. 

“ The death of friends would be a hopeless, ago- 
nizing mystery,” said Claudia. 

“ We should be ignorant of the ‘ many mansions ’ 
prepared for us in heaven,” said Amplias. 

“ Nor should we understand the monitions of 
conscience,” said Philologus. 

“Are you sure of that?” asked Apelles. “ It is 
said of the Gentiles, that ‘ having not the law, they 
are a law unto themselves.’ ” 

“ Perhaps you failed to observe that I did not 
say we should be destitute of conscience, but that 
conscience would be destitute of an interpreter. 
We should only know right from wrong in an im- 
perfect way ” 


2 


2 6 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ But the stores of knowledge laid up for man in 
God’s Word, increase his condemnation. There 
may be periods in one’s history when one might 
wish he had never been taught divine truth,” said 
Hermes. 

“ In the life of a Christian t ” asked Urban6. 

“ Yes. In hours of remorse, for instance.” 

“ Dear brother, pardon me, but I think that a 
truly regenerate soul loves the law just as well as 
•t does the gospel.” 

“ Perhaps so ; but that has not been my expe- 
rience. I have smarted under the law.” 

“ We shall have to discuss that point at some 
future meeting,” said Urban6, “ for our evening is 
drawing to a close. Let us make it a subject of 
special prayer during the week, that God, by His 
Spirit, would be present in our meetings. . And I 
trust you will all feel free to bring friends with you 
at your pleasure.” 

“ I know several young people who would like 
to come. But they would come as I do, in great 
ignorance,” said Apelles. 

“ Let them come, by all means.” 

Fhiiologus here remarked that he hoped all would 
lay to heart the desire expressed by Urban6, that 
the Word of God might be henceforth made a study. 

‘ J It should be prayed over, as well as studied,’ 1 
said Claudia. 


THE BIBLE 27 

“Yes; the Holy Spirit is the only true Inter, 
prcter of truth,” said Urban6. 

“ All very well for you men of leisure. But I 
shall not have a noment to myself,” said Hermes, 
laughing. 

“ Nor I,” said Amplias. 

“ I must try to make time, somehow,” said Apelles. 
“ And to this intent I will now bid you all good- 
night, and go home.” 

“ I should like to have you come prepared next 
week,” said Urban6, “ to describe thei character of 
the Apostolic Christian in scriptural language.” 

It was not late, but some had a long distance to 
go, and now took leave. Others, who had not ven- 
tured to speak through youth and inexperience, 
lingered near Urban6, asking questions he was only 
too glad to hear and to answer. They all alike 
complained of a neglected or formally read Bible, 
but seemed waking up to a new sense of its claims. 
Thus early the Lord and Master declared His pres- 
ence in this little assembly, and His readiness to 
bless every honest attempt to learn His will. 

After the company had dispersed, Urban6 was 
seized with a momentary dejection. The^weight 
of the truth to which he had aimed to direct then 
minds, oppressed him by its very wealth. But 
light and peace returned to his soul the moment he 
knelt for his evening prayer ; if he was a feeble 


23 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


instrument, as he deeply felt himself to be, there 
was all the more reason why divine strength 
should be given him ; so he trusted, and was not 
afraid. 



CHAPTER III. 

THE APOSTOLIC CHRISTIAN. 

Y object in proposing- to learn the char 
acteristics of the Apostolic Christian, 
will become apparent very shortly,” 
said Urbane. “ I see that some of you 
have your Bibles with you, and are prepared to 
read its testimony, which I hope will be done in- 
formally.” 

“ I have written out my texts,” said Apelles, 
“ and this is the first : ‘ He continued steadfastly in 
the apostles’ doctrine and fellowship, and in break- 
ing of bread and in prayers.’ ” 

“ ‘ He ate his bread with gladness and single 
ness of heart, praising God and having favor with 
all the people,’ ” said Helvia. 

“ ‘ He urged men to repent,’ ” said Hermes. 

“ ‘ He rejoiced that he was accounted worthy to 
suffer shame for His name.’ ” 

He gave himself continually to prayer ” 

(* 9 ) 



\ 


u < 



30 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“‘Was full of faith.’ ” 

“ He forgave his murderers. He knelt down 
and cried, 4 Lord, lay not this sin to their charge.’ ” 
“ ‘ He opened his mouth and preached Jesus.’ 
‘ He spake boldly in that name,’ and ‘ He was a 
chosen vessel unto God.’ ” 

44 4 He was a just man.’ ” 

“ He was humble, for when one fell down at his 
feet, he said, ‘ Stand up ; I myself also am a man.’ ” 

“ And again he speaks of himself as the ‘ chief 
of sinners,’ and ‘ least of all saints.’ ” 

44 He believed in intercessory prayer,” said Clau- 
dia, who then read Acts xii. 5. 

“ 4 He was filled with the Holy Ghost.’ ” 

44 4 And with joy.’ ” Acts xiii. 52. . 

“ ‘ He coveted no man’s silver, or gold, or ap- 
parel.’ ” 

“ ‘ He was ready, not. to be bound only, but to 
die for the name of the Lord Jesus.’ ” 

44 He was full of tender sympathy. 4 What mean 
ye, to weep and break my heart ? ’ ‘ Silver and gold 
have I none, but such as I have gi v 6 I thee.’ * Out 
of much affliction and anguish of heart, I wrote 
unto you with many tears.’ ” 

44 He was full of love,” said Urban6. “ 4 Being- 

o 

affectionately desirous of you.’ 4 But as touching 
brotherly love ye need not that I write unto you ; 
for ye yourselves are taught of God to love one 


THE APOSTOLIC CHRISTIAN. 


31 

another.’ ‘We know that we have passed from 
death unto life, because we love the brethren.’ ” 
“He had ‘ the full assurance of hope. ’ ” 

“He was always progressing,” said Urban 6. 
“ ‘ But we all, with open face, beholding as in a glass 
the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same 
image, from glory to glory.’ ‘ Add to your faith 
virtue, and to virtue knowledge.’ And he was 
‘ not slothful in business.’ ” 

“Yet that did not prevent his being ‘fervent in 
spirit ! ’ ” said Urban6. 

“ He * distributed to the necessity of saints, and 
was given to hospitality.’ ” 

“ He did not please himself because ‘ even Christ 
pleased not Himself,’ ” said Apelles, “and he deter- 
mined not to know anything save Jesus Christ and 
Him crucified.’ ” 

“ He resisted the devil.” 

“ Though ‘ sorrowful, he was always rejoicing.’ ” 
“He was ‘a fellow-citizen with the saints, and 
of the household of God.’ ” 

“ ‘ Christ dwelt in his heart by faith.’ ” 

“ He did not ‘ despise the chastening of the Lord, 
nor faint when he was rebuked of Him.’ ” 

“And this,” said Urban6, “was the temper in 
which he departed to be with Christ : 

“‘For I am now ready to be offered, and the 
time of my departure is at hand. I have fought a 


32 


URBANS AND HIS FRIENDS. 


good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept 
the faith : henceforth there is laid up for me a 
crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the right- 
eous judge, shall give me at that day.’ 

“ W e have now gathered up some of the charac- 
teristics of the Christian who lived in the time of 
Paul and of John, from the word of God. But we 
have other testimony, that of men who lived among 
those who composed the early Christian church, 
and saw their piety towards God and man. It 
was an age of idolatry and of persecution ; it re- 
quired high devotion to renounce the superstitions 
of the times, and to meet the painful results of 
loyalty to Christ. Men and women, and children, 
even, became martyrs to the truth, rather than deny 
their Lord. ‘All that will live godly in Christ 
Jesus shall suffer persecution.’ The early Chris- 
tians were as humble as little children. Besides 
disclaiming all right to the honors of life, they did 
not disdain to perform many of its menial offices, 
such as preparing food, visiting the imprisoned, 
kissing their chains, dressing their wounds, and 
washing their feet. When one was asked why she 
stooped to such low offices, she replied, ‘ Our glory 
and nobility lies in this, that we are the servants 
of Christ.’ They were not in the habit of looking 
upon the public sports of the day, their happiness 
coming from a higher source ; nc r did they mani- 


r 


THE APOSTOLIC CHRISTIAN. 


33 


fest any inordinate regret in parting with the ob- 
jects most dear to them — friends, property, liberty, 
or life itself. It is related of one lady, that when 
her husband and two sons were stricken down at 
her side, and when she was expected to break forth 
into a passion of tears, tear her hair, rend her gar- 
ments and the like, she stood still for a moment, 
and then falling down, as it were, at the feet of 
Christ, cried, ‘ Lord, I shall serve Thee more 
readily and nimbly, by being eased of the weight 
Thou hast taken from me.’ 

“ It was said of them that martyrdom could not 
Hurt them, since they had no other contentment in 
this world equal to getting out of it. It was their 
care to familiarize themselves with the thought of 
death and of eternity; hence the ‘sobriety’ of 
which Paul speaks. Their dress and demeanor 
was very simple. ‘ It is not enough,’ says Tertul- 
lian, ‘ that a Christian be chaste and modest ; he 
must appear to be so.’ At the same time, they 
avoided singularity as they avoided extravagance 
and ostentation, conforming themselves to the in- 
nocent customs of their times. They were most 
true and loyal to their Master. The cross, the 
lack, the sword, the wild beast, in turn, put their 
fealty to the test. No matter what befell them, 
their souls were stayed upon God, and even 
women and little children bore their sufferings 


2 


34 


urban£ and his friends. 


in a patient silence that put their tormentors to 
shame. Then, their love to each other was second 
only to their devotion to their Lord. ‘See how 
these Christians love one another ! ’ was the cry 
of even their enemies.’’ 

“ Times have changed since that day. The cry 
now might rather be, See how these Christians 
assail each other with tongue and pen ! ” said 
Philologus. 

“ You think, then, that the church has degener- 
ated?” asked Apelles. 

“ In some respects I do. But the Lord keeps a 
remnant of His own beloved ones, in every age, 
and has one now.” 

“Indeed! Where is it?” 

“ Some of it is in this room.” 

“ Oh, do you find apostolic piety anywhere at 
the present day ? ” cried Hermes. 

“ Why not ? Christ belongs to our own day as 
well as to any day of the past; and^ wherever He 
is, there you will find His disciples.” 

“ You are more fortunate than myself, if you know 
many men in our own times who bear much re- 
semblance to the saints of Holy Writ,” said Hermes. 

“ It is my strength and joy to know such,” said 
Urbane. 

“ Men who are read}’, if need be, to die foi 
Christ?” 


THE APOSTOLIC CHRISTIAN. 35 

* Ay; and women too.” 

“ Wherein lies the proof of such devotion, since 
the age makes no demand for martyrs? ” 

“ There are martyrdoms going on every day, 
whose sufferings far transcend anything ever en- 
dured at the stake, and they are borne with no 
prestige. I have stood at the side of many a bed 
that was literally a rack, though called a couch, and 
heard the lip that quivered with pain, sing songs 
of praise to Christ which did Him an honor, that 
thrilled me to the heart. Dying martyrdom intro- 
duces the departing saint into the presence of his 
Lord and the joy of eternal day. Living martyr- 
dom drags its victim through weeks, months, years 
of agony ; he dies to-day, yet lives to die to-morrow ; 
and ofttimes the character of the disease clogs and 
fetters the soul so that it cannot clearly discern 
and embrace its Lord. But even here I have heard 

m 

the steadfast assertion, ‘ Though He slay me, yet 
will I trust in Him ! ’ ” 

“ But this martyrdom is not a voluntary one.” 

“ In the sense of self-assumption, I grant 
that it is not. But when it is borne in faith, sub- 
mission and patience, it is in the truest sense 
voluntary;” 

“ Do you really mean that you have seen suffer- 
ing thus borne ? ” 

“ I do* and repeatedly.” 


36 urban£ and his friends. 

“ If left to its own choice, would nqt the victim 
prefer ease to suffering? ” 

“ It would not consent to choose. Many of the 
young persons present have never heard of an ex- 
perience familiar to some of yoi:, and which I trust 
I shall be pardoned for describing afresh : 

“ A friend said to a New England minister, who 
had been dying by inches for a year, ‘ I presume it 
is no longer incredible to you that martyrs should 
rejoice and praise God in the flames and on the 
rack ? ’ 

“‘No,’ was the reply, ‘ I can easily believe it. I 
have suffered twenty times as much as I could in 
being burned at the stake, while my joy in God so 
abounded as to render my sufferings not only tol- 
erable, but welcome.’ 

♦ 

“ On being asked, at another time, ‘ Do you feel 
reconciled ?’ he replied, ‘ O, that is too cold ; I re- 
joice, I triumph ; and this happiness will endure as 
long as God Himself, for it consists in admiring 
and adoring Him.’ ” 

“ Well, to get such enjoyment, one might almost 
De willing to endure such suffering. But how is it 
with mental pain ? ” 

“ Here, also, I can produce a favored witness of 
the grace of God. When I hear a desolate, child- 
less widow, whose very heart-string^ broke when 
she laid her husband, her only relative, away in his 


THE APOSTOLIC CHRISTIAN. 37 

grave, thank God that He thus afflicted her, I do 
not want to go ba^k to the primitive church to 
hear sublime testimony for Christ.” 

“All this frightens me. I know I never shall 
have such faith,” said Apelles. 

“ We idealize departed saints,’’ replied Urbane, 
“ and fancy that their faith and love will never be 
seen again upon earth. But they were made of 
exactly such flesh and blood as we are ; we have 
exactly the same opportunities they had, to grow 
up into Christ Jesus.” 

“But take the average professor of our own day 
s he an Apostolic Christian ? ” 

“ I fear not. And this fear has led me to open 
my doors to you, dear friends. Not one of us feels 
himself so holy as to be satisfied with himself ; 
there is not one of us who may not learn Christ 
more perfectly than he has done.” 

“ If you can say that, what should we say ? ” said 
Apelles. 

“ I have tried so to hold up Christ in my pulpit,” 
proceeded Urbane, “ that you could not help see- 
ing and loving Him. But my descriptions have 
failed of their end. And now I want to set before 
you, as a definite object, the duty and privilege of 
forming a new relation to Him. I will premise 
that the term second conversion is not one that I like, 
but the experience to which I am now about to 


33 


urban£ and his friends. 


call your attention, is one I believe to be genuine, 
for I have met with'cases of just such marked spir- 
itual advance in those who had led lives of pre- 
vious discomfort and uselessness. Up to a certain 
point in their religious history, most persons fail 
to recognize the personality of the Holy Spirit, 
and thus fail short of some of the blessings He 
can and will give plenteously to those who seek 
them.” 

“ You once used an expression which some of us 
did not understand,” said Antiochus, “ when you 
spoke of having ‘ consciousness of the Spirit/ Are 
you now referring to that state?” 

“ I am not. I am referring to an elevating expe- 
rience of a life-renovating character. Perhaps the 
following passage from the lips of that godly wo- 
man, Lady Maxwell, will throw light on the term 
‘ consciousness of the Spirit : ’ ‘ Yesterday I was fa- 
vored with a clear view of the Trinity, which I 
never had before, and enjoyed fellowship with the 
Triune God. I was in the spirit on the Lord’s 
day, and felt my mind fixed in deep contemplation 
upon that glorious, incomprehensible object, the 
ever-blessed Trinity. Hitherto, I have been wont 
to view the Holy Ghost chiefly as an agent; now 
I behold Him distinctly as the third person of the 
Trinity. I have, in my own soul, an experimental 
proof of this doctrine, but find human language 


THE APOSTOLIC CHRISTIAN. 


39 


perfectly insufficient for speaking or writing intelli- 
gibly on the subject. Eternity alone can unfold 
the sacred mystery; but in the meantime, what we 
may, and do, comprehend of it is replete with com- 
fort to the Christian.’ ” 

“ But you referred to something more decisive 
than this experience of Lady Maxwell ; did you 
not?” asked Antiochus. 

“ I did. God has more than one method in 
training souls. In some, the divine life is deeply 
implanted at conversion, and goes on in quiet, con- 
stant growth in the knowledge and love of Christ. 
But more frequently it is necessary to pass through 
other processes; especially is this the case with 
those who are to be the Lord’s efficient workmen.” 

“ Have you learned this through studjq or 
through observation ? ” 

“ In both ways. Coming in contact with a phe- 
nomenon, I sought in the Word of God an ex- 
planation, and think I found it in the second chap- 
ter of Acts.” 

“ But you surely do not expect to see visible 
tongues of flame on mortal heads at the present 
day ? ” said Hermes. 

“ By no means; I expect to see diveisities of 
operation, but the same Spirit.” 

“I should be deeply thankful for ary spiritual 
elevation,” said Antiochus, earnestly. 


40 


urban£ and his friends. 


“ Let me read a passage from Spurgeon, that 
covers this ground : 

It is very usual in the life of grace for the soul to receive, in 
after years, a second very remarkable visitation of the Holy 
Spirit, which may be compared to the latter rain. The latter 
rain was sent to plump out the wheat, and make it full, mature, 
ready for the after-harvest ripening. So there is a time of special 
grace granted to saints, to prepare them for glory, to make them 
completely meet to be partakers of the inheritance of the saints, 
in light. To some this is given in the form of what has very 
commonly, and I think correctly, been called a second conver- 
sion. There is a point in grace as much above the ordinary 
Christian, as the ordinary Christian is above the worldling. The 
life of grace is no dead level. There are mountains and there 
are valleys. There are tribes of Christians who live in the val- 
leys, like the poor Swiss of the Valois, who live in the midst of 
miasma where fever has its lair, and the frame is languid and en- 
feebled. Such dwellers in the lowlands of unbelief are forever 
doubting, fearing, troubled about their interest in Christ, and 
tossed to and fro ; but there are other believers who, by God’s 
grace, have climbed the mountain of full assurance and near 
communion. Their place is with the eagle in his eyrie, high aloft. 
They are rejoicing Christians, holy and devout men, doing ser- 
vice for the Master all over the world, and everywhere conquer- 
ors through Him that loved them. 

“ But is not this contrary to the analogies of 
nature?” asked Antiochus. “No child springs 
miraculously into manhood.” 

“ No doubt the Christian life is progressive. But 
no one can deny that a soul that has received the 
Holy Ghost ,’ is in a more favorable condition for 
growth than one who has received no such bless- 
ing. Take two children of the same age, and 


THE APOSTOLIC CHRISTIAN. 


41 


put them under different conditions. Giv r c one 
scanty food and clothing 1 , and the like ; give the 
other the best nourishment, air, etc., possible. 
Will the development of the one be as rapid and as 
perfect as that of the other ? ” 

“ Are we to understand that you are about to 
advocate a new doctrine?" asked Hertnes. ‘‘That 
you can conceive of a soul as attaining in an 
hour a spirituality it costs other souls a life- 
time to reach ? ” 

“ I advocate no new doctrine, but one as old as 
Christian experience. I appeal to fact only, when 
I say that there are cases in which a soul suddenly 
mounts upward as on eagle’s wings." 

“ On what occasion, for instance? ” 

“ The occasions are various. I think, however, 
that while the 'blessing sometimes descends upon 
those who have sought it in a vague, though ear- 
nest way, it is the more frequent result of an intel- 
ligent belief in it, as a personal experience, and 
persistent pursuit of it. It is a great mistake to 
expect all Christians to be alike. Being members 
of one family, they naturally have features in com- 
mon ; but while the Spirit is one, the diversities are 
many. Our Lord deals with one soul in this way, 
and with another in that. When He wants cedars 
of Lebanon, He can create them, but He does not 
make His landscape consist solely of cedars. He 


42 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


has His * willows by the water-courses,’ His ‘ apple- 
tree among the trees of the wood ; ’ His ‘ rose of 
Sharon,’ and His * lily of the valley ; ’ yes, even 
His * hyssop on the wall.’ And, as Epictetus has 
said : ‘ Now, had I been a nightingale, I should 
have sung the songs of a nightingale, or had I 
been a swan, the songs of a swan ; but being a 
reasonable being, it is my duty to hymn God' ” 

“ Will you tell us how to seek the experience ? ’ 
asked Antiochus. 

“ As far as a poor, mortal man, himself needing 
spiritual elevation, can do it, I will. Believe, in 
the first place, that it is attainable ; that you were 
never meant to live at a ‘poor, dying rate.’ Then 
offer yourselves freely to God ; keep back nothing. 
You are not your own ; you have been bought 
with a price. Wait then upon your Lord in in- 
tense desire and expectation. Let me add, wait 
cheerfully and without discouragement, even if 
He delays the blessing.” 

It was time to close the meeting, and it became 
evident that some souls had been touched, such a 
spirit of prayer fell upon the kneeling company. 



CHAPTER IV. 

FALLEN MAN. 

PROPOSE to speak this evening of 
fallen man,” said Urban6. “ When 
God had created a being in His own 
image, provided him with a home, a 
companion, and a profession, we have a picture of an 
earthty paradise, which, however, soon gives place 
to the sad spectacle of a Paradise lost. The hand 
that formed and placed Adam in the garden, on 
account of his sin ‘ drove out the man/ And in 
driving out Adam, He virtually banished the whole 
numan race, dooming man to painful servitude, and 
woman to painful suffering. The descendants of 
this guilty pair increased and multiplied, and filled 
the earth. Each was an heir to eternal death, for 
he was a sinner from his birth, 1 every imagination 
of his heart being evil from his youth.’ ” 

11 After reading over the list of crimes imputed 
to man by inspired writers,” said Apelles, ‘ I hesi- 
tate to call myself the ‘ chief of sinners.’ ” 

( 43 ) 



44 


URBANfi and his friends. 


“We have never been tempted to criminality * 
said Hermes. 

“ Our temptations, as Christians,’ said Urbane, 
“ are more subtle and keen than those of the world- 
ling. But as we advance in the divine life, sin that 
once looked trivial assumes gigantic proportions, 
viewed in the light of God’s countenance, and that 
of a sanctified conscience. There is no virtue in 
abstaining from forms of vice that never attracted 
us ; nor, indeed, necessarily any grace. Moral men, 
who yet love not God, keep many of His command- 
ments. Sin in a regenerate soul is not so much 
outward transgression, as a state of the will. By 
nature we are inveterate, intense lovers of seif; 
and even after the new birth has, in a degree, 
crushed this principle of evil, it still exists, latent, 
perhaps, but potent for mischief, within us.” 

“ I cannot realize that I love myself so intensely,” 
said Apelles. 

“ And may not for a long time to come ; but as 
you grow in grace you will see it.” 

“ Why,” said Apelles, greatly mortified, “ do I 
show it so plainly now ?” 

“ I know nothing about your heart in particular, 
and did not intend my remark to be considered 
personal ; I merely refer to human nature in gene- 
ral. A man may live years in what appears to be 
a consecrated life, happy and useful, and then, 


FALLEN MAN. 


45 


through Divine illumination, find that he is in the 
most urgent need of new anointing from on high ; 
in unsuspected, remote recesses of his soul a mon- 
ster has been lurking, that has now been dragged 
as a traitor to the light ; and till that traitor is slain, 
always will be on hand to let Satan into the very 
temple of the Holy Ghost.” 

“ And even a slight degree of unbelief in a soul 
Christ has redeemed, is sin— sin to hate,” said Clau- 
dia. 

“ I have never been taught that. I commit so 
many outward sins, that I have not time to look 
much within,” said Apelles. 

“ It is better to look up than to look in,” said 
Urbane. “ You never will find anything in your- 
self that, on scrutiny, will not prove to be tinged 
with sin.” 

“ But I do not recognize myself as the utterly 
barbarous character depicted in the Bible. I am 
not, for instance, * without natural affection,’ nor 
was it ever a delight to me to ‘ cause men to fall.’ ” 

“ Man is largely depicted in the Word as he ex- 
ists even to this day in heathen lands. We do not 
expect to find this absolute degradation in the 
realms of Christian nurture. We were all born in 
a land of Sabbaths, of Bibles, of holy influences 
and prayer It would be fearful, indeed, if we 
should sink from such heights of privilege into 


46 


urban£ and his friends. 


depths of brutality. But while we look with pro- 
iound pity upon the carnality of the lower forms 
of manhood, we must consider the responsibility 
resting upon us because of what has been done for 
ns. God speaks of sin as the abominable thing 
He hates. Through the force of education we 
have been kept from temptation to crime, but our 
transgressions against the law have been as numer- 
ous as the hairs of our heads.” 

“ Are not persons whose natural characters are 
very lovely, in danger of being blind to what de- 
fects they do possess ? ” asked Apelles. 

“ If their sense of sin grew out of what they see 
ot its outward forms in their own lives, they might 
over-estimate themselves, no doubt. Thus the 
young ruler whom Jesus loved, and who had kept 
the law from his youth up, was not an heir of eter- 
nal life. Morality could not win heaven for him ; 
Christ’s love even could not save him ; the penitent 
thief on the cross might be to him an object of 
envy.” 

“ The thought is appalling,” said Antiochus. 

“ It shows what a fearful sin unbelief is in the 
eye of God,” said Philologus. 

“Yes,” said Urban6. “If the young ruler had 
been able to exercise faith enough to go and sell 
all he had and give it to the poor, saving faith 
would, undoubtedly, have followed. But I was 


FALLEN MAN. 


47 


going to say that one does not learn his own utter 
sinfulness by his own skill. The Spirit gradually 
opens his eyes to see forms of self-love that are 
absolutely loathsome in the Divine eye, while he 
is comfortably fair in his own.” 

“ How can God love what He loathes?” asked 
Apelles. 

“ He loves the sinner, while He hates his sin.” 

“ Should not man, then, hate what God hates in 
him?” 

“ He should, and every good man does. As he 
contemplates and studies Christ, sin looks more and 
more monstrous ; what seemed a peccadillo yester- 
day, may look like a dark mountain to-morrow.” 

“ I dare say the thought I am going to express 
will strike you as a very crude one ; but it seems 
hard, to me, that the young ruler’s beautiful moral 
character could do so little for him. Take him, and 
any number of innocent, lovely girls, such as are 
found adorning homes all over the world, ar d is 
there not something revolting in the thought of 
their spending eternity with such wretches as we 
know to be now on earth ?” 

“ There is great temptation to rank filial piety 
and amiable instincts under the head of piety to- 
wards God,” replied Urban6. “ But we must not 
join together what He has sundered. He has pro- 
vided a way by which the vilest sinner may be ju&* 


l 


48 


URBANli AND HIS FRIENDS. 


tified ; it is a way of humiliation and penitence, but 
every son and daughter of Adam must walk there- 
in.” 

“ Well, do you think God hates my sweet little 
sister here, who would not hurt a fly, as He does 
a great, hulking reprobate, who would crush her 
life out of her for a few dollars ? ” 

“ Let me repeat it, God hates no man. If you 
study His character, you will see that it is impos- 
sible. And we have just alluded to the fact that 
Christ * loved ’ the young ruler. And now as to 
those to whom you have referred, I agree with 
you perfectly, that the ideal young girl is like a 
lily in her purity. But my experience as a pastor 
is this : It is this very lily, that when the Sun of 
Righteousness shines upon it, shudders, and com- 
plains of a little dust upon its bosom, that your 
4 great, hulking reprobate,’ would not even be able 
to see. I have seen many a penitential tear shed 
by maidens whose tenderness of conscience many 
men, even sanctified men, might envy ; I appeal to 
Claudia if I reverence her sex too much ? ” 

“ I agree with you perfectly,” was the reply ; 
‘ at the same time, I am painfully conscious of the 
weak side of my sex.” 

“ Better weak than sinful,” said Philologus. 

“ But have you not repeatedly declared, in the 
pulpit,” Apelles said to Urban6, “ that we may ex. 


FALLEN MAN. 49 

pect deliverance from sin because we have God’s 
omnipotence at our command ? ” 

“ Yes.” 

“ Then why does He not at once put an end to 
sin ? Can He not ? ” 

“ He can. And He could doubtless have pre- 
vented sin from entering the world, had He chosen 
to do so.” 

“ But if He can keep a soul free from sin, and 
will not, how is that soul responsible? ” 

“ God has provided a refuge for the sin-sick soul 
in Christ.” 

“ But sin still goes on.” 

“ And still the sun shines and men stand with 
their backs to it, and see shadows.” 

“ Well, let me ask another question. You say 
that God’s omnipotence is at our disposal ; is His 
omniscience also at our service? ” 

“ Undoubtedly it is. He gives us all the light 
we ask for, or are willing to receive.” 

44 Then we are responsible for our mistakes ? ’ 

44 Certainly.” 

“ This is news to me,” said Hermes. 44 I always 
regarded myself as innocent in my errors of judg- 
ment.” 

44 Form a habit of self-distrust, and a habit of 
faith in the unerring sagacity of God, and you will 
never go very far astray. I say, form this as a 
3 


50 


urban£ and his friends. 


habit. Religion does not consist in emotions. It 
is a life, and has its laws, as all life has/’ 

“ But it is very hard/' said a youthful voice, “ to 
keep one’s resolutions. While I am hearing you 
preach or talk, I always determine to follow all 
your suggestions ; but the first temptation carries 
me away.” 

“ I hope you will learn to make no resolutions,” 
said Urbane, “ unless it be to let Christ do all for 
you. In yourself, you can neither do or be any- 
thing.” 

“ It is tolerably easy to be religious on Sundays, 
and when with good people, or when one is in 
trouble,” said another; “but when one is out in 
society, and with those who are worldly, and when 
one is on the top of the wave, it is another thing.” 

“ Do you -think one could be in good health 
whose heart beat once a week, and lay idle the rest 
of the time?” asked Urbane. 

“ Why, no ! ” was the surprised answer. 

“And what of yours on week-days and when in 
the world ? My dear young friend, Christ wants 
no spasmodic, fluctuating love from you. He 
wants a heart beating like clock-work for Him, no 
matter where it is. And now let us stop talking 
for to-night, and spend the remainder of the even- 
ing in prayer.” 



CHAPTER V. 

SIN. 

HAVE been requested to go on speak* 
ing of sin,” said Urband. 

“ Some persons believe that sinless 
perfection is attainable here upon 
earth,” said Hermes. 

“ This is the Wesleyan doctrine,” said Apelles. 

“ Wesley used the word perfection,” replied 
Urbane ; “ but he did not mean sinlessness by that 
term. A short time before his death, he alluded to 
an illness he had had at Bristol, when he had used 
these words : 

* I the chief of sinners am, 

But Jesus died for me ! * 

He was asked : ‘Is that your language now ? 

1 Yes,* said he, ‘ Christ is all ! He is all.* 

“And what can be more scriptural than the Wes- 
leyan answers to the following questions : 

(s 1 ) 



52 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

“ ‘ Do you affirm that perfection excludes all in 
firmities, ignorance, and mistakes ? * 

“‘We constantly affirm just the contrary/ 

“ ‘ In what manner would you advise those who 
think they have attained, to speak of their own 
experience ? * 

“ * With great wariness, and with the deepest 
humility and self-abasement before God/ 

“ This is not, indeed, the language of Wesley him- 
self, but that of his followers, as taught by him. But 
the sentiments I will now quote are his own : 

“‘Absolute or infallible perfection I never con- 
tended for ; sinless perfection I do not contend for, 
seeing it is not scriptural. A perfection such as 
enables a person to fulfill the whole law, and 
so need not the merits of Christ, I do not ac- 
knowledge. I do now, and always did, protest 
against it. 

“ ‘ Keep to this : repentance towards God, faith in 
Christ, holiness of heart and life, a growing in 
grace and in the knowledge of Christ, the con- 
tinual need of His atoning blood, a constant con- 
fidence in him, and all these every moment, to our 
life’s end. 

“ ‘As long as the soul is connected with the body 
it cannot think but by the help of bodily organs. 
As long as these organs are imperfect, we shall be 
liable to mistakes , both speculative and practical 


SIN. 


53 


For all these we need the atoning blood, as, indeed, 
for every defect or omission. Therefore, all men 
have need to say daily , forgive us our trespasses 

“ ‘As to the manner, I believe this perfection is 
always wrought in the soul by faith, by a simple 
act of faith ; consequently, in an instant. But I 
believe in a gradual work both preceding and 
following that instant. 

“ ‘As to the time, I believe this instant generally 
is the instant of death, the moment before the soul 
leaves the body. But I believe it may be ten, 
twenty, or forty years before death. 

“ ‘ I believe it is usually years after justification ; 
but that it may be within five years or five months 
after it.’ 

“ The views of Mr. Charles Wesley on the sub- 
ject of perfection underwent a change, in conse- 
quence of the extravagance and pride of which he 
was a distressed witness. He did not, from this 
time, contend, as do many, for the necessary con- 
tinuance of indwelling sin till death ; but he spoke 
of Christian perfection as a much higher attain- 
ment than either he or his brother had previously 
regarded it. In his estimation, it is not to be at- 
tained by a present act of faith in the mercy, truth, 
and power of God, but is rather the result of 
severe discipline, comprehending affliction, temp- 
tation, long-continued labor, and the persevering 


54 URBAN# AND HIS FRIENDS. 

exercise of faith in seasons of spiritual darkness, 
when the heart is wrung with bitter anguish. By 
this painful and lingering process, he believed that 
the death of the ‘old man’ is effected, and a matu- 
rity is given to all the graces of the Christian 
character. Hence, he condemned ‘ the witnesses,’ 
as he called them ; that is, the persons who testified 
of the time and manner in which they were de- 
livered from the root of sin, and made perfect in 
love, regarding them as self-deceived.” 

“And with which of the brothers Wesley do you 
agree ? ” asked Apelles. 

“ I agree with both. I think the operations of 
the Spirit so diverse, that I can believe in theories 
that appear contrary to each other. There are 
flexible, docile natures, like that of Matthew — the 
moment they are called to Christ, they arise and 
follow Him. Others, like Paul, have to be virtually 
crucified before they will wholly yield up their 
belligerent wills. These remarks apply to both 
the regenerate and the unregenerate.” 

“ Do you think those born and brought up in 
the Church of Christ can be very great sinners.” 

“ Bishop Hall says : ‘ I brought sin enough with 
me into the world to repent of all my life, though 
I should never actually sin ; ’ and that ‘not only 
commission makes sin. A man is guilty of all 
those sins he hateth not.’ In judging of our own 


SIN. 


55 


sinfulness, we must take into account the light we 
have received. A man’s conscience may become 
so sanctified that he will rank speaking evil of his 
brother with doing him evil. He will just as soon 
make remarks as to his defects, as he will tell 
falsehoods to dishonor, or take a knife to slay 
him.” 

“ Oh ! do you believe in such perfection ? ” 
cried an incredulous voice. 

“ It is a sort of perfection taught by our Lord, 
when He says, * Thou shalt love thy neighbor as 
thyself.’ And this spirit of Christian charity is 
just what I want you all to possess. You will see 
a great deal to condemn in even good people ; even 
good people may honestly doubt religious theories 
which are your delight. But if they see that your 
theory is one thing and your life another, they will 
have just cause to distrust you. And let me say 
here, that love to man is the inevitable result of 
love to Christ ; and if you find it wanting in your- 
selves, depend upon it your religion is vain.” 

“ You frighten me ! ” said Amplias. “ I think it 
would be beautiful to learn to exercise perfect 
charity; but the nearest approach I have ever 
made to that, or any form of godliness, is earnestly 
to desire it.” 

“ Thank God for this earnest desire ! Has He 
not said, 4 Blessed are they that hunger ’ ? But let 


56 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


me proceed to read to you passages from othei 
than Methodist writers. The first is from the pen 
of a godly old divine of the Church of England, in 
a sermon on Legal and Evangelical Faith : ‘ St. Paul 
speaks of the law of the spirit of life, which was able 
to destroy the power of sin, and to introduce such 
a spiritual and heavenly frame of soul into men, as 
whereby they might be enabled to express a cheer- 
ful compliance with the law of God, and demon- 
strate a true heavenly conversation and godlike 
life in this world/ 

‘ We read in Jamblicus and others, of the many 
preparatory experiments used by Pythagoras to 
try his scholars, whether they were fit to receive 
the more sublime and sacred pieces of his phil- 
osophy ; and that he was wont to communicate 
these only to souls in a due degree purified and 
prepared for such doctrine. And what did all this 
signify but only this, that he might, by all these 
methods, work and mold the minds of his hearers 
into such a fit temper as that he might better 
stamp the seal of his more divine doctrine upon 
them, and that his discourses to them * of things 
just and lovely and good,’ might be written ‘truly 
and really in the soul that I may use Plato’s words 
in his Phaedrus, where he commends the impressions 
of truth which are made upon men’s souls above all 
outward writings, which he therefore compares to 


SIN. 


57 


dead pictures. By this we see what the wisest and 
best philosophers thought of this internal writing ; 
but it peculiarly belongs to God to write the laws 
of goodness in the tables of men's hearts. All the 
outward teachings of men are but dead things in 
themselves. But God’s imprinting His mind and 
will upon men’s hearts is properly that which is 
called the teaching of God, and then they become 
living laws, written in the living tables of men’s 
hearts, fitted to receive and retain divine impres- 
sions.’ 

“After alluding to the fact ‘ that a faith whose 
characteristic spirit is eternal aspiration, should be 
more or less a sorrowing faith,’ and of ‘ the spirit of 
courage and liberty,’ a popular living author pro- 
ceeds to say : 4 Nevertheless, friends, Christians, in 
whom this spirit is begun, you know there is a 
bound where all this dissatisfaction and unrest 
ought to end. Beyond that limit it becomes a 
hindrance to Christian growth, a fetter upon Chris- 
tian liberty, a chill upon Christian zeal. Instead of 
inspiriting, it debilitates. By an easy and danger- 
ous transition, it passes into a morbid self-accusa- 
tion, which shuts off charity for men and ser- 
vice to Christ. It becomes a practical denial of 
the supporting strength and pledged grace of God. 
There can be little freedom, or heartiness, or effi- 
ciency in the worship or the living, under this 
3 * 


58 


URBAN# AND HIS FRIENDS. 


overshadowing anxiety. Better far, always, than 
indifference or unconcern, it is not the natural, 
healthy state of a disciple. If it is an inevitable 
stage on the way to that state, yet it should always 
be treated as just that, and no more — temporary, 
instrumental, immature ; tending ever to peace ; 
looking for the joy of believing ; waiting for the 
promise of the Comforter ; pressing on, with confi- 
dent expectation, from the transient ‘ spirit of 
bondage to fear,’ which asks, ‘ Who shall deliver 
me ? ’ into the abiding ‘ spirit of life in Christ 
Jesus,’ where ‘ there is no condemnation,’ and into 
the blessed spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, 
‘Abba, Father;’ ‘if God be for us, who can be 
against us?’ 

“And now let me read Leighton’s comment on 
Paul’s utterances in the eighth chapter of Romans : 

“ ‘ Who shall separate us from the love of Christ ? 
Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or 
famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword ? etc. 

“ ‘ Is this he who so lately cried out, O wretched 
man that I am ! who shall deliver me ? who now 
triumphs, O happy man! who shall separate us 
from the love of Christ? 

“‘Yes, it is the same. Pained, then, with the 
thoughts of that miserable conjunction with a body 
of death, and so crying out, who will deliver, who 
will separate me from that ? Now, now he hath found 


SIN. 


59 


a Deliverer to do that for him, to whom he is forever 
united, and he glories in his inseparable union, and 
unalterable love, which none can divide him from. 
Yea, it is through Him, that presently, after that 
word of complaint, he praises God ; and now, in Him 
he triumphs. So vast a difference is there betwixt a 
Christian taken in himself, and in Christ ! When he 
views himself in himself, then he is nothing but 
a poor, miserable, polluted, perishing wretch ; but 
then he looks again, and sees himself in Christ, 
and then he is rich, and safe, and happy ; he tri- 
umphs, and he glories in it, above all the painted 
prosperities, and against all the horrid adversities 
of the world ; he lives in his Christ, content and 
happy, and laughs at all enemies.’ 

“ Now no one can deny that God has made every 
possible provision for the happiness as well as 
safety of His children. Is it, then, conceivable that 
He has provided no means whereby the souls of 
the redeemed may be freed from anxiety, from an 
* evil conscience,’ from the power of sin ? I believe 
He has. But how far man has availed, or is avail- 
ing himself of this, I am not prepared to say. But 
that thousands live a life of faith that is the source 
of great purity and peace, I am quite sure. Bishop 
Burnet says of Leighton : ‘ I can say with great 
truth, that in a free and frequent conversation 
with him, for above two and twenty years, I never 


6o 


URBAN^ AND HIS FRIENDS. 


knew him to say an idle word, or one that had not 
a direct tendency to edification ; and I never once 
saw him in any other temper, but that which I 
wished to be in, in the last moments of my life.’ 
And Wesley says of Fletcher: ‘I was intimately 
acquainted with him for above thirty years ; I con- 
versed with him morning, noon and night, without 
the least reserve, during a journey of many hundred 
miles ; and, in all that time, never heard him speak 
one improper word, nor saw him do an improper 
action. Many exemplary men have I known, holy 
in heart and life, within fourscore years ; but one 
equal to him I have not known, one so inwardly 
and outwardly devoted to God. So unblamable a 
character in every respect, I have not found, either 
in Europe or America ; and I scarce expect to find 
such another on this side of eternity.’ 

“ ‘ Such was the piety of our Eliot,’ says Cotton 
Mather, * that, like another Moses, he had upon 
his face a continual shine, arising from his uninter- 
rupted communion with the Father of Spirits. He 
was, indeed, a man of prayer, and might say, after 
the Psalmist, I Prayer, as being in a manner made 
up of it. Could the walls of his old study speak, 
they would even ravish us with a relation of the 
many hundred and thousand fervent prayers which 
he there poured out before the Lord.’ 

“ And again : * Eliot’s way of preaching was very 


SIN. 


61 


plain, so that the very lambs might wade into his 
discourses on those texts and themes, wherein 
elephants might swim.’ 

“ ‘ The Lord Jesus Christ was the loadstone which 
gave a touch to all the sermons of our Eliot; a 
glorious, precious, lovely Christ was the point of 
Heaven which they still verged unto.’ ” 

“ But these men would not have spoken thus of 
themselves,” said Claudia. 

“ You are right. If they speak of themselves at 
all, they declare, themselves to be unprofitable ser- 
vants. I have a case in point in Eliot himself. On 
his death-bed, he spoke of the work he had been 
doing for Christ, but immediately exclaimed, ‘ But 
what was the word I spoke last? I recall that 
word — my doings ! Alas ! they have been poor and 
small and low doings ; and I’ll be the man that shall 
throw the first stone at them.’ 

“ Now, if such humility as this does not keep 
full pace with claims to holiness, reject the claims. 
The very essence and genius of sanctity is lowli- 
ness of mind, and the esteeming others better than 
ourselves. If sometimes we are permitted to sit 
with the Lord in his chariot, let fast runners go by 
.ts side, announcing to all on the highway that it 
was not our virtue, but His condescension that 
placed us there.” 

“ But if one attains great dominion over sin, and 


62 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


receives great marks of divine favor, is there not 
danger of spiritual pride ? ” asked Apelles. 

“ ‘ He whom the Lord loads most with His gifts 
stoops lowest, as pressed down by them,’ ” replied 
Urbane. “ I forget who said that, but I am sure 
we have all seen instances that attest its truth.” 

“ But we do see spiritual pride,” Apelles per- 
sisted. 

“Yes.; but not in those ‘most loaded.’ You can 
easily agitate the water in a bottle partially filled ; 
but when it is as full as it can hold, you cannot 
agitate it at all.” 

“ This image explains, too, the equanimity of some 
Christians in time of trouble,” said Claudia. “ They 
are so full of Christ that they are shaken in vain.” 

“ If the question is not irrelevant,” said Hermes, 
“ I should like to ask your opinion of fasting. Is 
it still a Christian duty? Does it help to mortify 
the flesh ? ” 

“ I have read an ingenious article on this subject, 
which takes the ground, that while the Bridegroom 
is with them, the children of the bride -chamber 
cannot mourn, but that when He is taken away, 
‘ then shall they fast in those days.’ Others deny 
that He ever is taken away, Christ’s words to the 
contrary, notwithstanding. We shall have occa- 
sion to recur to this point. There are many per- 
sons, in our day, who have not physical strength to 


SIN. 


63 


abstain entirely from food for any length of time ; 
devotion is checked by the train of discomforts that 
attend this attempt to rise above mortality. To 
such, that style of fast is inexpedient. There is no 
virtue in making one’s self ill. On the other hand, it 
has been remarked by a medical writer of the pres- 
ent day, that if the fasts enjoined by one body of the 
church were practiced by all, the physical effect 
might be salutary. That a vast amount of Chris- 
tian moderation in the use of food and drinks is 
called for most imperatively, I have no doubt. But 
under the general head of ‘ fasting,’ I think we may 
rank all forms of self-denial, physical, mental, moral, 
and spiritual ; their name is legion. Religion lays 
a gentle but firm hand on everything in the natural 
man, and not only upon that which is in itself sin- 
ful, but on much that is in itself innocent. As the 
conscience becomes sanctified, that which it al- 
lowed itself yesterday, it forbids itself to-day. Self- 
denial is not agreeable to man, but it may become 
a second nature. The Christian learns to control 
his passions, to bridle his tongue, to refuse himself 
enervating pleasures, to keep himself, in many 
respects, ‘ under.’ This wise self-discipline helps 
to conform him to His image, whose own life of 
sacrifice speaks more sternly to His disciples than 
His severest words.” 

“ But it is very hard,” said Apelles, “ to know just 


64 


urban£ and his friends. 


where to draw the line. I know you do not want 
us to live like anchorites. And you have taught 
some of us, at least, to beautify our homes with 
works of art, with flowers, with music ; to catch, 
with joyful, grateful hands, at every lovely creation 
of the Maker of the universe, He throws in our way.” 

“ You are right : I have tried to teach this. But 
have I ever suggested, in practice or precept, that 
you should adorn your homes too much ; love flow- 
ers too much ; be too fond of the works of nature in 
their varied forms? Not one of you can be an 
example or a lawgiver to another. A very little 
upsets one man’s reason, while it takes a great deal 
to unsettle that of his neighbor ; they must live, 
therefore, by different rules.” 

“ But can you make no practical suggestion?” 
asked Amplias. 

“ I think I can. As long as the gratification of 
any innocent taste does not absorb time that 
could and should be better spent ; as long as you 
can return to religious duty or religious devotion, 
with unchecked delight; as long as Christ holds so 
unmistakably His place as King of your soul, that 
you count all your treasures but loss that you may 
keep Him there, — so long you are safe in your hu- 
man pursuits and pleasures. But if these things, 
innocent in themselves, have the boldness and im- 
pertinence to beguile you from duty, from prayer, 


SIN. 


6 $ 

from Christ; to you they cease to be innocent. 
They are thieves, and robbers, and murderers ; 
they will steal your most priceless treasures and 
slay your soul.” 

“ And what is one to do in such a case ? ” 

“ What would a man do to thieves and robbers? 
He would not tolerate them a moment.” 

“ You preach great perfection,” said Amplias, 
with a sigh. 

“ So will every man who preaches Christ.” 

“ But to live to Christ is so hard, if one accepts 
your view of it.” 

“ My dear young friend, I did not make the way 
to Christ. The plan is His. And He does not 
hesitate to say that the path is narrow, and that 
few find it. But if it is narrow, it is comparatively 
short ; and eye hath not seen, nor ear heard, 
the things that God has prepared for those that 
love Him. There come times, in every earnest life, 
when the right hand must come off, the right eye 
come out. This is, indeed, a fast ! If, at this mo- 
ment, there is any one present who is tempted to 
give the world, in any shape, another trial, let me 
entreat him to relinquish the attempt. Profit by 
the experience of an old man, who cares for your 
souls. Christ is the one, the only Fountain, from 
which you will never come staggering back, cry« 
ing with bitter anguish, ‘ I thirst ! ’ 


66 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


Ah. what a timely word was that to more than 
one ! It was an iron hand that crushed what looked 
like a fair flower into a shapeless, odious mass ; i 
was the heel that ground into the dust a guilty 
pleasure ! There was silence in the room for seve- 
ral minutes. 

Apelles then said : “You once alluded to Christ’s 
saying that there are times when the Bridegroom 
forsakes the bride. Now, some persons deny that 
Christ ever withdraws His presence from the soul ; 
but complaint that He does this is as old as the 
Church.” 

“ I do not believe that He ever leaves the soul 
arbitrarily ; but that some of His most beloved 
ones have missed His conscious presence, at times 
in their history, is a fact not to be ignored. And 
as to the suffering this occasions, the testimony is 
that it is heart-rending — far more so than any other 
bereavement.” 

“ Madam Guyon,” said Philologus, “suffered un- 
der this affliction for nearly seven years.” 

“ Her case can hardly be called a representative 
one, however. God was preparing her to do a 
great work for the Church, and I think He rarely, 
if ever, makes the educating process a painless one 
when He wants remarkable results. * He that go- 
eth forth and weepeth , bearing precious seed, shall 
doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his 


SIN. 


67 


sheaves with him/ This wonderful mystic brought 
much wheat into the Lord’s garner, but it cost her 
a great price.” 

“ You do not think, then, that it is necessary for 
every Christian to pass through a period, or pe- 
riods, of spiritual desertion and darkness ? ” 

“ I certainly do not. If we are in darkness, it is 
most commonly through some folly or sin of our 
own ; the sun is in the sky, but we cannot see it 
with our eyes shut, or if we turn our backs to it, 
or interpose some object between it and our vision.” 
- “ Do you mean that Christ is always in a posi- 
tion to be seen and appropriated.” 

“ Yes; by what old divines called ‘appropriating 
faith/ But it is time to bring our meeting to a 
close, when, as usual, I h?ve done little more than 
touch at truth.” 

“ Before we close,” said Philologus, “ permit me 
to read the description of an encounter between 
Wesley, at the age of fourscore, and Simeon, then 
a young parson of twenty-eight : ‘ Sir,’ said young 
Simeon, ‘ I understand you are called an Arminian ; 
now I am sometimes called a Calvinist, and, there- 
fore, I suppose we are to draw daggers. But, be- 
fore I begin to combat, with your permission I will 
ask you a few questions, not from impertinent cu- 
riosity, but for real instruction. Pray, sir, do you 
feel yourself a depraved creature, so depraved that 


68 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


you would never have thought of turning to God, 
if God had not put it into your heart ? ’ 

44 4 Yes,’ said the veteran, 4 1 do, indeed.’ 

44 4 And do you utterly despair of recommending 
yourself to God by anything that you can do, and 
look for salvation solely through the blood and 
righteousness of Christ ? ’ 

“ 4 Yes, solely through Christ.’ 

44 4 But, sir, supposing you were first saved by 
Christ, are you not somehow or other to save your- 
self afterwards by your good works? ’ 

44 4 No; I must be saved by Christ, from first to 
last.’ 

44 4 Allowing, then, that you were first turned by 
the grace of God, are you not, in some way or 
other, to keep yourself by your own power? ’ 

44 4 No.’ 

44 4 What then ? are you to be upheld every hour 
and every moment by God, as much as an infant in 
its mother’s arms? ’ 

44 4 Yes, altogether.’ 

444 And is all your hope in the grace and mercy 
of God to preserve you unto His heavenly king- 
dom ? ’ 

4 4 4 Yes, I have no hope but in Him.’ 

44 4 Then, sir, with your leave I will put up my , 
dagger again : for this is all my Calvinism ; this is 
my election, my justification, my final persever- 


SIN. 


69 

ance. It is, in substance, all that I hold, and as I 
hold it ; and, therefore, if you please, instead of 
searching out terms and phrases to be a ground of 
contention between us, we will cordially unite in 
those things where we agree.’ ” 

“ I do wish,” said Apelles, “ that I could believe, 
as some do, that sanctification is ever bestowed as 
a sudden gift.” 

“ The word ‘ sanctification ’ means different things 
on different lips,” said Urbane. “ No one pretends 
to become a full-grown saint in an instant of time. 
I believe all experienced believers regard Chris- 
tian life as a growth, even where a sudden ‘ sanctifi- 
cation of the Spirit ’ has been vouchsafed. But it 
is not wise to argue about this subject. Let us, 
instead of doing that, spend our strength in finding 
out, practically, and each one for himself, how holy 
God can, or does, make an individual soul here in 
time. The question is one of experience, and no 
amount of argument can settle it.” 

“ I think,” said Hermes, “ it is simple presump- 
tion to expect to be holy in this life.” 

“ Some men pretend that they are. They de- 
clare themselves to be perfect,” said Apelles. 

“ But as we do not consider ourselves perfect, 
we must try to avoid discussing a subject so subtle, 
;o difficult, till some future time, at least,” said Ur- 
ban6. 


70 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ Before I will allow that any human being is 
perfect, I want, as Lavater says, to divide an in- 
heritance with him,” said Hermes. 

“ Or, as has been elsewhere remarked, take a long 
journey with him,” said Apelles. 




CHAPTER VI. 


TEMPTATION. 



AVING announced his subject, Urban6 
waited for questions. 

“ Is it not very difficult to distinguish 
between sin and sinless temptation ?” was 


asked. 

“ It is ; but do not chide yourself too severely 
for being tempted. You are not responsible for it 
till you yield.” 

“ I do chide myself ; I cannot help it.’ 

“ Then you undertake to manage both Satan’s 
sins and your own. And let me tell you, you will 
have quite trial enough with your own share. You 
little know as yet the deceitfulness and instability 
of your own heart ; it takes time to learn its wind- 
ings and turnings.” 

“ Is there any time when Satan makes special 
assaults ? ” asked Apelles. 

“ Leighton says that * Especially after a time of 

(71) 



72 


URBAN# AND HIS FRIENDS. 


some special seasons of grace, and some special 
new supplies of grace, Satan will set on most 
eagerly, when he knows of the richest booty. The 
pirates that let the ships pass as they go by empty 
watch them well when they return richly laden ; 
so doth this great Pirate. Did he not assault our 
Saviour straight after His baptism ?’ You cannot 
lay this habit of Satan too much to heart, or be too 
careful to keep the divine Pilot on board your ship 
when it is coming home laden with treasures.” 

“Well, I hate Satan. Now you call my atten- 
tion to it, I see that it is a fact that I almost invari- 
ably fall into my easily-besetting sin after some 
special delight in the closet, or in sitting at the 
sacramental table ; but I never charged this to 
Satan,” sard Apelles. 

“ Yet you do not doubt that he is a personality, 
and always raging with hunger for souls?” 

“ I have never thought much about it.” 

“ He will give you occasion then to think about 
it, I assure you. The closer your union to Christ, 
the more adroit and persistent will Satan become. 
He is not omniscient ; he does not know that Christ 
is shortly going to bruise him under His right royal v 
feet ; and so he keeps up his attempts to get posses- 
sion of redeemed souls that will never be his.” 

“ Can you tell us exactly what to do when tempt- 
ed?” 


TEMPTATION. 73 

“ ‘ The name of the Lord is a strong tower ; the 
righteous runneth into it, and is safe.’ ” 

“ Suppose the temptation looks attractive? ” 

“ Christian said that at such times his annoyance 
was vanquished by remembrance of what he saw 
on the cross.” 

“ Oh, but in moments of sharp temptation the 
power of the cross is weakened.” 

“ True ; but this is our only hope. Let me re- 
peat to you the history of one temptation, as de- 
scribed to me by the victim. Satan transformed 
himself into an angel of light at the end of a year 
in which a man had been living very close to Christ, 
and said to him in a quiet, rather than a startling 
way : 

“ ‘ Here is a delicious draught ; drink it.* 

“ 1 Is it innocent ? ’ 

“ ‘ Of course it is.’ 

“ The man’s habits were cautious, as are those 
of every true disciple, and he hesitated. 

“ ‘ Innocence is relative,’ he said ; ‘and this cup 
may not be innocent for me. Are you sure that I 
should not lose my good name, and so dishonor 
my Master, by drinking it?’ 

“ ‘Oh,’ said Satan, ‘a good name is nothing to a 
man so thirsty as you are.’ 

“‘lam very thirsty. But would my friends ap 
prove of this draught ? ’ 

4 


74 urban£ and his friends. 

“ * What you want, at this moment, is not friends 
It is relief from thirst. Drink.’ 

“ ‘ Are you sure it would not cost me Christ ? ’ 

“ * Drink a little, and see that it will cost you 
nothing- worth having.’ 

“ The man took the cup in his hand, and looked 
at it. He put it to his lips, and one drop fell upon 
his tongue ; it intoxicated him ; he forgot reputa- 
tion, friends, duty. He was about to swallow the 
whole sweet draught ; but the sacred name of Christ 
had been uttered, and He had come to the rescue. 

“ 4 My son,’ He said, 4 drink this cup, and you 
will never see Me more ; for a transient, guilty 
pleasure, will you deny and forsake Me ? ’ 

44 ‘ Nay, Lord ! ’ he cried, clinging to his Beloved 
like a drowning man ; 4 1 would give up reputation, 
position, friends — yea, every earthly advantage, to 
drink this cup to its dregs ; but I cannot, I will 
not, let Thee go ! ’ 

“ Thus saying, he dashed the cup from his hand, 
and Satan withdrew, baffled, but not hopeless ; for 
he knows that one who will stop to parley is in 
danger.” 

44 Is there sin in thus parleying ? ” asked Hermes. 

44 There is. It is giving place to the Devil.” 

44 Well, suppose the young man, above described 
yields to temptation, and drinks the cup ; what 
then?” 


TEMPTATION. 


75 


a He crucifies the Son of God afresh, and wrongs 
his own soul. He chooses self-indulgence and re- 
jects Christ. Sin will separate him from his Lord. 
He will keep on falling from one transgression into 
another, till he wakes up to find himself in an abyss 
into which he once would have declared it impos 
sible he could descend.” 

“And how about his religious life during this 
process? ” 

“ It will be a source of reproach and discomfort, 
and when he comes to himself, as he will, if he is a 
regenerate man, his conscience will become a lash 
to beat, him withal. He will hardly need any other 
punishment than this, combined with the loss of 
what he had, perhaps, enjoyed of the presence of 
Christ.” 

“ It is a painful picture. * Lord, lead us not into 
temptation/ Could not a merciful Father shield 
His children from the assaults of Satan ?” 

“ Nothing is too hard for God. Why He per- 
mits temptation, I do not fully know. But it has 
its uses. It reveals a man’s inmost soul, of what sort 
it is ; and whether it will honor or dishonor Him. 
In the case I have supposed, which is not an ex- 
treme one, as you will see on reflection, no power 
less potent than an intense love to Christ, can save 
the man. He has become so deluded by Satan, 
that he will give up everything else he values. But 


76 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

that passion conquers the two great embodiments 
of evil, Satan and self. And he who has thus come 
off conqueror may, in time, rejoice that his love 
has had such a test, grievous and mortifying as the 
temptation was at the moment. Temptation, when 
it is not followed by defeat, strengthens Christian 
life, and creates confidence in God. He who has 
fought many battles, has acquired an experience 
worth years of mere sunny idling by the way- 
side.” 

“ Which has severest conflicts — the old or the 
young Christian?” asked Apelles. 

“ The holier a soul has become, the more frantic 
are the efforts of Satan to despoil and secure it. 
The conflict becomes close — yea, hand-to-hand. 
But the joy of the victor, when the encounter is 
over, will make him forget the wounds of the 
affray.” 

“ All this recalls the expression, ‘ there remaineth 
a rest for the people of God.’ It is evident that 
there is not much rest for us here.” 

“ I hope to show you that there is a great' deal. 
Meanwhile, try to realize that while Christ may 
seem afar off, He is in truth always near the faith- 
ful soul, and will not suffer it to be tempted without 
making provision for its rescue. Sometimes, when 
Satan sees believers to be so closely united to 
Christ that he loses all hope of separating them 


TEMPTATION. 


77 


he relieves his anger b)^ harassing them in ingenious 
ways, that would never occur to any less malignant 
mind than his own. But in this case, the work is 
purely Satanic, and no human responsibility is in- 
volved/’ 

“ But if he attacks an advanced Christian more 
furiously than a less experienced one, what advan- 
tage has the former over the latter? ” 

“ The advantage of having Christ so abiding 
in him, that he counts all things but loss for 
His sake. What can Satan offer a soul that 
can say this? He only insults it when he sug 
gests that some other object may be put in Christ’s 
place.” 

“ He goes armed . with very subtle weapons, 
which he will thrust into minute crevices in the 
Christian armor,” said Claudia. “ They penetrate 
like long, sharp needles, w'hose points have been 
dipped in poison. It is these almost invisible shafts 
that do the greatest harm, for they usually :ome 
when one is off one’s guard. When battering rams 
are shoved against the soul, it takes the alarm at 
once; but these fine, fiery darts! We recognize 
them first by their sting.” 

“And let them teach us,” said Urban6, “the 
absolute need of a Christ within us, to check in- 
stantly the effects of the poison thus introduced. 
Our only hope is in Him. Without Him we are 


yS URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

helpless, and may be plucked from the very en- 
trance to heaven itself. 

** * Mount, but be sober on the wing ; 

Mount up, for heaven is won by prayer : 

B«e sober, for thou art not there.’ ” 

“ Perhaps your attention,” said Philologus, 
“ should be called to the fact that there are 
some temptations that ought not to be fought. 
The sin is kept too constantly before the imagina- 
tion, when faced ; you must retire from the field, 
and let the Captain of your salvation do battle for 
you.” 

“ Will He do it ? ” asked Apelles. 

“ If you trust your cause entirely in His hand, 
He will,” said Urband. 

“You have spoken,” said Hermes, “of Satanic 
temptations; do we not also tempt ourselves? Is 
the fault all his ? ” 

“ You never lose your moral responsibility, and 
you have two tempters in addition to Satan — 
namely, the World and the Flesh. That their 
power is immense, no one can doubt who knows 
anything of himself.” 

“ And how are we to meet them ? ” 

“ In humility and patience, and faith and prayer. 
We must accept the fact that we are weak and 
human, liable to fall into both folly and sin. On 
the other hand, we must r.emember that Christ 


TEMPTATION. 


79 


abides in us, and, however distant to our conscious, 
ness, is always within reach of a whisper, or even 
a glance of appeal. And if He does not instantly 
appear for our rescue, it does not become us to lose 
courage, and sink down in despair? He will not 
suffer us to go to ruin.” 

“ But, now, look at David. How low he fell ! ” 

“ And how he repented ! Suppose all the saints 
in Scripture had been represented as sinless : how 
would the weak brother of all succeeding time 
have bemoaned and sunk under his own imperfec- 
tions ! One of God’s plans for the human race is 
to strip it bare of pride and vainglory, and in car- 
rying out this plan, He often finds it necessary to 
permit grievous temptation — sometimes a fall. 
Self-knowledge is impossible, when the sea is 
smooth, the sky cloudless, the wind fair ; in this 
estate, man says : ‘ 1 shall never be moved.’ But 
if, when the storm of temptation arises, he can say 
this, happy is he that is in such a case.” 

“ Can any say this ? ” asked Apelles, eagerly. 

“ There are those who say they are never 
moved, but they have not come to the end of life ; 
they do not know what may yet befall them. 
Patient distrust of self, and cheerful trust in Christ, 
seem to me to be wiser.” 

“ I think there is another reason why temptation 
is permitted,” said Claudia. “ In all times the 


8o 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


Church must suffer persecution ; and, as in our 
own day it is n t pushed to the point of martyr- 
dom, the accuser of the brethren becomes their 
persecutor, and the ‘ fiery trial,’ sooner or later, is 
felt most keenly by the purest soul. The whiter it 
has been washed in atoning blood, the more it suf- 
fers under the harassing and intrusive attempt to 
overcome it. But * blessed are they who are per- 
secuted for righteousness’ sake,’ by either man or 
devil ; they shall come out of this tribulation like 
an army with banners ! ” 

“ One word more, before we part,” said Urbane. 
“ Make allowance for infirmities of the flesh, which 
are purely physical. To be fatigued, body and 
soul, is not sin ; to be ‘ in heaviness ’ is not sin ; to 
be sometimes languid in holy affection may not be 
sin, but mere lassitude of the emotive nature in all 
directions. Christian life is not a feeling; it is a 
principle : when your hearts will not fly , let them 
gOj and if they ‘ will neither fly nor go,’ be sorry 
for them and patient with them, and take them to 
Christ, as you would carry your little lame child 
to a tender-hearted, skillful surgeon. Does the 
surgeon, in such a case, upbraid the child for 
being lame ? ” 

“ You hold up such a high standard of piety,” 
said Claudia, “ that that soothing word is quite 
refreshing.” 


TEMPTATION. 


8l 


u It is, indeed ! ” said Apelles. “ I have so many 
tame children ! ” 

“ The effect of this evening upon me,” said Am- 
<plias, “has been depressing. I never realized be- 
fore that we had so powerful an enemy in Satan.” 

“ It is because he is so powerful that I am anxious 
to have the fight with self over, that you may be at 
full liberty to fight Satan. We must realize the 
fact that we are altogether born in sin, and that 
our human weakness and inability to help our- 
selves is absolute ; but this is only one side of the 
story, and to dwell upon it exclusively is ruinous. 
It is far better to cast ourselves on Christ, in His 
power over the whole realm of evil, assured that 
He is our King as well as our Saviour, and will 
forever do away with everything that hinders the 
coming of His kingdom.” 

“ But, in the meantime, we have got to have our 
hard times.” 

“ We too often make our own hard times, by our 
unbelief and slowness of heart.” 

“ I will now close our meeting by reading a 
passage on this subject from a far more masterly 
hand than mine: ‘But how are we to overcome 
temptation ? Cheerfulness is the first thing, cheer- 
fulness is the second, cheerfulness the third. The 
devil is. chained. He can bark, but he cannot bite, 
unless we go up to him and let him do so. We 
4 * 


82 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


must be of good courage. The power of tempta- 
tion is in the fainting of our hearts. We must 
have confidence in God. No one can have confi- 
dence in God who has not the completest diffidence 
of himself. God’s cause is ours; for temptation is 
more really the devil’s wrath against God, who has 
punished him, than against us, whom he only en- 
vies, Our ruin is important to him, only as it is a 
blow (aimed) at God’s glory. Thus God is bound 
to us, as it were, as it is for His sake that we are 
thus persecuted. We may be sure — indeed, we 
know infallibly, that wd shall never be tried beyond 
our strength.’ ” 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE MYSTICS. 

Claudia was about to set forth to at- 
tend the next meeting, and Antiochus 
seemed disposed to accompany her, his 
wife said to him, playfully, “ Why do 
you and mother never; take me with you? ” 

“ I wanted the proposal to come from yourself, 
dear Junia,” replied her mother. 

“ You know how I feel about it,” said Antiochus; 
“ but I fancied you were indisposed to go.” 

“Are you going to let them try to make you per- 
fect?” asked Junia. 

“To whom do you refer by ‘ them ? ’ ” 

“ Why, Urban6 and his set.” 

“ No such demonstration has been made thus 
far,” said Antiochus ; “and I think it more than 
likely that you would be interested in the subject 
to-night. Your mother says Urban6 is going to 
speak of the Mystics.” 



(83) 


84 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

44 The mystics ? What have they to do with the 
Bible?” 

44 Come and see.” 

44 I will. But don’t expect to make a mystic of 
me. I am a live woman, made of flesh and blood, 
and I rather think, Mr. Antiochus, that you would 
prefer, in the long run, to have a wife who will 
keep }^our house and mind your children, than one 
of your devotees, who neglects home duties to run 
about singing and praying.” 

44 I certainly should,” was the reply. 

Junia had been a very beautiful girl, and was 
now a beautiful young woman. She did not, in 
the strictest sense, live in the world ; Christian 
profession forbade it. But Tv hat service she ren- 
dered Christ was in the form of duty, not love ; 
her great, passionate heart she gave to her husband 
and children, and she wanted theirs in return. 
Her taste was unusually refined ; she shrank from 
everything that was not beautiful and fragrant ; she 
craved artistic objects, and filled her house with 
them. She would not have liked to be called aristo- 
cratic ; yet her instinctive repugnance to all that 
was homely and prosaic made her seem so, at least. 

As to Antiochus, she idolized him ; her ardent 
imagination clothed him with fancied graces ; 
hitherto she had led him whithersoever she would, 
by the silken thread of her affections. 


THE MYSTICS. 


85 


\7iban6 received her warmly, and she took her 
.•cat between her husband and mother, and as far 
as possible from two or three worthy but plain 
people, who, being poor, had something beside the 
odor of sanctity about them. 

“ I wish to devote this evening to the Mystics,” 
said Urbane. 

“ Who are they ?” asked Hermes. 

“ They are men and women known to every age 
of the Church, who usually make their way 
through the world completely misunderstood by 
their fellow-men. Their very virtues sometimes 
appear to be vices. They are often the scorn and 
contempt of their time, and are even persecuted 
and thrown into prison by those who think they 
thus do our Lord service. But now and then one 
arises who sees, or thinks he sees, some clue to 
their lives and their speech. Though not of them, 
he feels a mysterious kinship to them, that makes 
him shrink with pain when he hears them spoken 
of unjustly. Now, I happen to be such a man. 1 
have not built up any pet theory that I want to 
sustain ; I am not, in any way, bound to fight for 
any school ; but I should be most ungrateful to 
both God and man if I did not acknowledge that 
I owe much of the sum and substance of the best 
part of my life to mystical writers, ay, and mys- 
tical thinkers, whom I know in the flesh.” 


86 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ But how ? Can error teach truth ? ” asked 
Hermes. 

“ I will reply in the language of another: ‘ Sup- 
pose you wished to separate a quantity of brass 
and steel filings mixed together in one vessel, how 
would you effect this separation? Apply a load- 
stone, and immediately every particle of iron will 
attach itself to it, while the brass remains behind. 
Thus, if we see a company of true and false pro- 
fessors of religion together, we may not be able 
to distinguish between them ; hut let Christ come 
among them, and all His sincere followers will be 
attracted toward Him, as the steel is attracted to 
the magnet, while those who have none of His 
Spirit will remain at a distance.’ Now, I try to use 
this test. I use Christ as a magnet, and say to all 
who cleave to Him, even when I cannot perfectly 
agree with them on every point of doctrine — You 
love Christ, therefore 1 love you.” 

“ And you are right, 6 ’ said Philologus. 

“ I think you will all be interested in a passage 
from Coleridge’s ‘ Biographia Literaria,’ which is 
just to the point.” 

“ From Coleridge? I am all ear, for one,” 
said Philologus. 

“ He had made allusion to George Fox, Jacob 
Behmen and the like, and adds: 4 The feeling of 
gratitude which I cherish towards these men has 


THE MVSTICS. 


87 


caused me to digress further than I had ioreseen 
or proposed ; but to have passed them over in an 
historical sketch of my literary life and opinions, 
would have seemed to me like the denial of a debt, 
the concealment of a boon. For the writings of 
these mystics acted in no slight degree to prevent 
my mind from being imprisoned within the outline 
of any dogmatic system. They contributed to 
keep alive the heart in the head; gave me an in- 
distinct, yet stirring and workingpresentiment,that 
all the products of the mere reflective faculty par- 
took of Death, and were as the rattling twigs and 
sprays in winter, into which a sap was yet to be 
propelled from some root to which I had not pene- 
trated, if they were to afford my soul either food 
or shelter. If they were too often a moving cloud 
of smoke to me by day, yet they were always a 
pillar of fire throughout the night, during my 
wanderings through the wilderness of doubt, and 
enabled me to skirt, without crossing, the sandy 
desert of utter unbelief.’ I have no recollection,” 
added Urban6, “ of ever reading this passage till 
to-day, but had toiled out its truth for myself, and 
now set my hand and seal to it.” 

“ It is a striking passage,” said Hermes. 

'‘You like to think for yourself,” saidAmplias; 

and I am glad that you do.’ 

“ In one sense, this is true in another sense, it is 
not. But. to pn on — ” 


88 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


‘‘Please to explain that paradox first. You say 
you think for yourself, and in the next breath that 
you do not.” 

“Well, the fact that it is my nature to carry out 
independent lines of thought, has led me to bring 
my conclusions to the test of Divine scrutiny. I 
not only want to know what I believe myself, but 
I want God to know it, so that He may rectify my 
errors. Now, to go on to the reliable mystic of the 
present day. He is a man of great fervor of spirit, 
and, perhaps, an enthusiast in every direction. 
But this is not a matter of course. He may de- 
scribe himself as ‘an anthracite coal,’ and go on to 
declare himself as experiencing a ‘ marvellous 
manifestation of the love of Christ ’ to his soul, 
that has moved him to his foundations. The ex- 
perience transforms him. His attitude toward 
Christ and truth and duty, and the Word of God, 
is completely changed. His testimony is that of 
one who speaks of what he knows, and, as has 
been said, ‘ One experience is worth a thousand 
theories.’ ” 

“ You say he belongs to the present day. Then 
what proof is there that he will not live to find 
all this is a mere delusion ? ” asked Hermes. 

“ I do not deny that he may. But my reasons 
for trusting he will not, are these : In the first 
place, the experience does not differ in kind from 
that of many who have gone before hi^ 


THE MYSTICS. 


89 


proved faithful unto death. In the second place, 
if Christ has entered his soul, as I believe He 
has done, He has entered it to abide there, accord 
ing to promise.” 

“ But why need he and all his set run and tell 
these sacred secrets ? Why not preserve a modest 
silence, leaving time and holy living to indicate the 
change that has been wrought within him ? ” 

“Thank you for the question,” said Urbane. 
Allow me to ask one in return. Suppose that, 
after years of painful poverty, you are told that 
in a certain field there is hidden treasure enough 
to supply, not only all your own wants, and make 
you forever at ease, but enough for everybody. 
You search for it day and night; you find it; you 
are amazed at your wealth. Now, do you leave 
the remaining treasure untouched, concealed, vir- 
tually lost to the world, or do you hasten to spread 
abroad the good news, that your friends and neigh- 
bors may also become rich ? ” 

“ I always supposed, and thought every one sup- 
posed, that these extraordinary claimants of a 
special revelation of Christ made to them, reported 
it in a boastful temper. It is a new idea that this 
is done in a spirit of benevolence.” 

“ It is done in that spirit only in part. It has a 
higher motive — even to do honor to God. ‘ My 
soul shall make her boast in the Lord : \he humble 


go URBANS AND HIS FRIENDS. 

shall hear thereof and be glad.’ 1 Come and hear 
all ye that fear God, and I will declare what He 
hath done for my soul.’ But, allowing no motive 
save the instinctive yearning for sympathy inher- 
ent in us all, is not that an explanation ? ” 

“ But you must allow that to those of us who 
never had any of these marvellous revelations, 
they sound visionary and sound conceited. Of 
course, it would be a fascinating thing to be lifted 
suddenly and miraculously from poor and meagre, 
into rich and glorious Christian life. But I must 
experience, in order to believe it possible.” 

“ I think that feeling perfectly natural,” replied 
Urbane, “ and do not, in the least, wonder that the 
happy disciple of the present day seems like a man 
‘ drunk with new wine,’ as he did after his Pente- 
costal baptism, ages ago. All I ask of any man is 
to put the matter to the test, by seeking the ex- 
perience himself. Let him reason thus : Here are 
men and women claiming to live in an intimate 
relation to Christ, which I do not understand. 
Either they are deceived, or I am. How shall 
I come to a knowledge of the truth ? By ignor- 
ing their testimony ? By contemning it ? By 
proving, by their human frailties, that they are 
greater sinners than lam? By interpreting their 
ascriptions to Christ, and their ‘ boasts in the 
Lord,’ as conceited attempts to magnify them* 


THE MYSTICS. 


91 


selves? No; I have no right to do this. In the 
first place, I cannot deny that these souls are re* 
generate. They bear too much genuine fruit for 
me to deny that. In the next place, I cannot deny 
that they are praying souls ; and if I should com- 
pare notes with them, I might have to confess that 
they pray more than I do. Is it not possible, there- 
fore, that, living hard by the throne of grace, they 
have been taught truths not yet revealed to 
me?” 

•‘ One honest objection to the doctrine of sudden 
spiritual uplifting is, that if such wonders are pos- 
sible, the Church would not have been allowed to 
remain ignorant of her privileges during eighteen 
centuries. But granting that days of Pentecostal 
blessing have been occurring all through her his- 
tory — and can it be denied ? — the Church has not 
been entirely ignorant. And if, at this day, some 
men and women are consciously receiving baptisms 
of the Holy Ghost, why should not every one of 
us claim the blessing ? ” 

“ I am an honest doubter ; I ask the question in 
no carping spirit, for I am intensely interested. Is 
there not a mass of weak, religious literature in the 
market, which rather clogs than oils our wheels ? ” 
asked Ar.tiochus. 

•‘Undoubtedly there is. It is not every good 
man whc is called upon to write books or even 


92 


URBANS AND HIS FRIENDS. 


tracts. But religion is not the only sufferer from 
crude disciples.” 

“ But may not the mystics of the present day live 
to reconsider some of their own teachings, modify- 
ing them under new light?” 

“ They may do so. They do not claim to be 
infallible.” 

“ Can you tell me what they do claim ? ” 

“ I think I can. But, in order to do it, I may 
have to go over ground already traversed at pre- 
vious meetings.” 

“A resume of the argument would be timely/ 
said Apelles. 

“ I will describe two representative men,- whom 
I know personally,” said Urban6. “ They are friends, 
and started in life together. To love Christ and to 
be like Him was their desire, even in early youth. 
They studied the Word of God faithfully and on* 
their knees ; they gradually learned the mysterious 
art of prayer, by what has been justly termed ‘an 
apprenticeship ’ at the throne of grace ; they busied 
themselves about their Master’s business, and 
their lives were not barren of usefulness. One of 
them, whom I will call A., became, after a few 
years, satisfied that our Lord had prepared a bet- 
ter pathway through life than that he had been 
traveling, and put himself before God in the atti- 
tude of one waiting for, and expecting, sanctifica- 


THE MYSTICS. 


93 


tion. Do not associate the word sinless ‘ perfec- 
tion ’ with this man, but look on him as one whom 
the Spirit was calling to entire consecration, such 
as any one of us may make. 4 1 will not let Thee 
go except Thou bless me! ’ was the secret, earnest 
posture of his mind, the ‘language of his prayer. 
And such prayer is always answered. The bless- 
ing came down upon him like a flood. He never 
knew what to call it, but he accepted it with the 
most reverent gratitude. The change in him was 
rery marked, and his holiness and usefulness made 
him the wonder and delight of his family and 
friends. He never obtruded the subject on others, 
yet was always ready, with meekness and fear, to 
describe this experience. I saw him at that time 
in his pulpit — he was a minister — and heard his 
expressions of love to the Master he was serving ; 
and heard him preach with an unction hitherto 
unknown. Now the descent of the blessing was sud- 
den, and lifted him at once into a new world ; but the 
preparation for it had been going on ever since he 
learned to pray.” 

“ Did you regard him as finished, , if I may use 
such a word, at that time ? ” said Antiochus. 

“ I could see little to improve in him; but he 
used such deprecating, humble language concern- 
ing himself, that it was hard to realize what he had 
gained, till you heard him pray. Then you were 


f 


94 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


strangely impressed with his faith, his love, his holy 
boldness and consciousness of Christ. He was not 
naturally of a happy disposition, but he now became 
so habitually at rest, that, in time, his countenance 
acquired an expression of sweet peace previously 
wanting. At times, too; there was an infectious 
joyousness about him that was very attractive. 
While all this was going on, his iriend B. was 
learning his lessons of life in quite another school. 
God stripped him of one thing after another, seem- 
ing, sometimes, to those who looked on, to pursue 
him relentlessly. ‘ Without were fightings, within 
were fears.’ Satan seemed to have a special spite 
against him, and to oppose his every step. For 
many years his path lay through the wilderness. 
I ought, perhaps, to say, in passing, that he was a 
strong man in almost every sense of the word ; he 
wanted to understand the mystery of life ; fighting 
was natural to him, and the trials of the way did 
not daunt him. He was literally a ‘soldier of the 
cross,’ and grew stronger as the battle waxed 
hotter. He came out, in the end, to the point A. 
reached long before, and with a depth of experi- 
ence worth all it cost. God ‘ humbled and proved 
him to do him good in the latter end.’ ” 

“ Had A. nothing but sunshine in his life ? ” asked 
Claudia. 

“ He had both trials and conflicts. His 


THE MYSTICS. 


95 

character was by no means an undisciplined 
one.” 

“ I should like to know these two men, and hear 
their own stories,” said Antiochus. 

“ So should I,” said Hermes. 

“ Did you not recognize in A. your kinsman, 
Stephanas ? ” 

Hermes, with incredulity, “ Stephanas?” 

“ Even he.” 

“ I never heard — I never knew — it did not occur 
to me to look for an ideal character within my own 
doors. My thoughts are all thrown into confu- 
sion ! Why, he is as gay as any boy ! ” said 
Hermes. 

“ Who has more reason to be gay ? ” 

“ I always associate holiness and solemnity to- 
gether. And why has he maintained such reserve 
with me as to this remarkable experience of his ? ” 

“ Have you been ready to hear it?” asked 
Urbane. 

“ There is something in that, to be sure. At any 
rate, I never heard him speak of himself. But he 
holies so with my children! However, there is 
nothing morally wrong in that, only it does not 
seem holy . And he never talks to me religiously.” 

“ He may have been silent to you, but has not 
been silent concerning you. Not a day passes that 
he does not pray for you as few can pray.” 


9 6 


urban£ and pus friends. 


“ This touches me inexpressibly. ” 

“ I ne\ r er met with any one whose saintliness 
was so impressive in its silence,” said Claudia. 
“ But let any one speak slightingly of our Lord 
or of any of the beloved of our Lord, and he can 
speak, 1 might almost say, with tongues, he is so 
inspired.” 

“He has lost every trace of desire to draw at- 
tention to himself. With him it is, ‘ None but 
Christ.’ ” said Philologus. 

“ I begin to realize that until the present time, it 
would have been useless for him to say much to 
me. But I am now in the mood to listen to him 
with some respect,” said Hermes. 

“ Is he not very aged ? How, then, can he spend 
his time in works of charity, as 1 hear he does?” 
asked Apelles. 

“ He has led a very temperate life, and, conse- 
quently, has unusually good health. I must confess 
that I have often sneered at his doctrine that it 
was wrong to be sick, not perceiving that he car- 
ried his religion to the table with him. My 
thoughts are in a good deal of confusion. I have 
always regarded him as one of the simplest, most 
child-like of men, with an unemotional nature ; 
this partially accounts for my being so incredulous 
when he was announced as a man of such depth of 
experience.” 


THE MYSTICS. 


97 


“ Religion is a very solemn thing. One does 
not associate it with the trivial affairs of life,” said 
Amplias. 

'‘Would it not be better to do so?” asked Ur- 
ban6. “ Who should be joyous in his daily walk 
and conversation, if a Christian should not? The 
great charm about Stephanas to me, is his perfect 
simplicity "and naturalness. He does absolutely 
nothing for effect. Hence the divine life in him is 
hidden from the ordinary eye.” 

“ I trust it will no longer be hidden from mine. 1 
am going home greatly humbled and instructed,” 
said Hermes. 

“ This gladdens my heart. Dear friends, we all 
need humbling, all need instructing. But is there 
not inspiration in a holy life ? May we not hope 
for, nay, expect, what our Lord has given tb 
others? His is no niggard hand. He loves us; 
He wills our sanctification; His most bountiful, 
wonderful gifts stand awaiting us. And what 
has any one of us ever found that he would not 
rather part with, than this Rock of his salva- 
tion?” 

As Urbane warmed with his subject, he rose tc* 
his feet, and his pale, scholarly face became illu- 
mined with the love, and joy, and peace he had 
been describing. It seemed as if he could not 
speak of that marvelous display of the power of 
5 


9 3 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


the Holy Ghost, when seated quietly in his chair 
but must rise to do Him homage. 

Antiochus whispered to Claudia, “ Look at himi 
God’s glory smites him in the face ! ” And, as he 
turned towards her to say it, he saw the same mys- 
terious light on hers. 

A power from on high so fell upon the meeting 
now, that as they knelt together before parting, 
one after another lifted up his voice in unwonted 
earnestness. And then Urbane was left alone. 
And yet not alone, for as long as physical 
strength held out, he knelt and prayed, individ 
ually, for the soul of each of these friends. And 
as he prayed, “ the fashion of his countenance 
was altered ; ” it took on somewhat of the inspira- 
tion and intensity and awe, of one who sees the 
Invisible , and is changing into His likeness because 
he sees. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE MYSTIC OF TO-DAY; OR, “ THE HIGHER 
CHRISTIAN LIFE.” 

S Antiochus left Urban6’s house, with his 
wife and her mother, he said, turning 
to the latter, “ It would almost seem as 
if Urban6 — dear old man! — believed in 
these people.” 

“ Undoubtedly he does.” 

“ And you, mother ? ” 

“ Believe as he does, in ail there is good and true 
in them. And I was glad to hear him speak as he 
did to-night, because injustice has been done to 
some of Christ’s own beloved disciples.” 

“But if there is error among them, why does not 
the Holy Spirit set them right? ” 

“ That is a question I cannot answer. But of one 
thing 1 am quite sure. If you or I, or any other 
man or woman, follow all the light he has, he will 
keep gaining more, and will finally emerge from 
the region of darkness and doubt, into that of per 

( 99 ) 



100 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


feet day. If any man will do His will, he shall know 
the doctrine.” 

“ I wish I had your faith, mother.” 

“ As to spiritual gifts, I believe we get exactly 
what we want. As soon as we are ready for this 
or that experience, we get it.” 

“ Have you always known this? ” 

“No; I fancied myself sincere when I prayed 
for holiness, and often felt impatient with God for 
not answering my prayers more speedily and de- 
cisively. But I came, at last, to see that I was not 
ready. I wanted to be holy, but I wanted, at the 
same cime, to keep a spot in reserve, on which I 
could fall back in case I did not get out of holiness 
all I hoped to find in it. Do you understand me ? ” 

“ Partly. But I have much to learn and much 
to remember. And the things of this life have fast 
hold of me.” 

“ Well,” said Junia, with much spirit, “so they 
should. We are not called upon to live in cells, 
like monks and nuns. As long as we live in this 
world, we must, in the very order of things, be of 
it. Now this evening, interested as I was in the 
remarks made, my head was full of other thoughts ; 
and then, to tell the truth, I felt myself shrinking 
back from anything that savors of cant, or want of 
refinement. I did not go to the meeting entirely of 
my own free will. I went because you were going.” 


44 THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.’ 


IOI 


“Perhaps,” said Claudia, “you made a mistake 
in going. Perhaps your time for such influences 
has not come. You know, dear, it has never been 
my wont to press experiences upon my children, or 
my children on to experiences. I have felt it wiser 
to pray much and say little, biding God’s time.” 

“ And we have appreciated that. But with your 
own wonderful love to Christ, I should think you 
would despise our coldness and worldliness.” 

“Despise? Oh, Junia! How little you realize 
how advancing years are teaching me to despise 
nothing but my own imperfections ! ” 

“ But I love my husband so ! The children are 
such precious treasures! And when 1 ask God to 
make me holy, it is just like asking Him to take 
them away, so as to leave room in my heart for 
Him. And I can’t ask that ! ” 

“ Nor would He have you do so. And as to lov- 
ing them, why, of course, He wants you to love 
them.” 

44 But how can I help making idols of them?” 

“ I think you may trust Him to hinder that. If 
you really want Him to do it, He will — in His 
own way, however. And a wise self-discipline we 
may practice, ourselves.” 

When the evening for the next meeting occur 
red. Claudia said to Junia, 44 1 am going to join oui 
friends to-night, but if you feel great repugnance 


102 


URBANE and his friends. 


to doing so, it is wiser to stay at home. It is never 
expedient to force ourselves, from the outside, into 
scenes with, which we cannot sympathize.” 

“ I have two inclinations,” replied Junia. “ One 
is to go. I suppose that comes from your prayers. 
The other is not to go. And that comes from my 
wicked heart, with, perhaps, a little help from 
Satan. If everybody were like you and Urband, 
I know I should go. But most people are so cold.” 

“ Is Antiochus going ? ” 

“ No ; or, at least, not unless you need him, as an 
escort.” 

Claudia replied that, what with her maid and 
her gray hair, she did not need him ; and the two 
kissed each other and parted. 

Junia expected to spend the evening agreeably 
with her husband, but a friend came in, and they 
began to talk about railroad stock, and bank stock, 
and twenty other things in which she felt no in- 
terest. 

“ Men are so selfish ! ” she said to herself, and 
went up to her nursery to take account of her own 
stock there. Beneath blue and crimson satin 
coverlets her treasures lay sleeping. Four lovelier 
little heads never pressed mortal pillows. She 
fiung over them, wound their damp curls round 
her fingers, kissed them tenderly, and as she 
passed her mirror, saw a proud, delighted face 


“THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.” I03 

there. But it was not, in the highest sense, a 
happy face. 

Claudia sat among her friends, in a corner, as 
one in the mood rather to look on and to listen, 
than to mingle with them or say much herself. 

Hermes spoke first. “ I have been reading and 
thinking over the subjects under discussion,” he 
said, “ and have two entirely different sets of 
opinions about them. There are some facts I can- 
not get round. I suppose I describe the experi- 
ence of most Christians when I say that I have 
never, till of late, made the subject of personal 
holiness a study. I have had a great deal of work 
to do of a secular character, and also a great deal 
that would come under the head of Christian work ; 
and I have wondered at and felt a smothered con- 
tempt for the advocates of any doctrine that led to 
much introspection. My motto has been, ‘Say 
little and do much.’ But it has come to me lately 
that the work that has occupied so much time has 
resulted in little or no good. I do not know that 
there will be a single soul in heaven guided there 
by my hand. I do not know of a human being 
who is the better for my life and labor.” 

A11 almost painful silence followed these words. 
Then Urbane said, kindly, 

“ The good we do is often hidden from us.” 

“ But that does not apply to me. I see, now, 


104 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

that I have worked in my own strength, and that 
a great deal of the muscular Christianity I have 
put forth, has been rather the result of an attempt 
to pacify my conscience, than of a desire to be holy 
and like my Master. I have not been a reflecting, 
so much as a working man. But my machinery 
wanted the unction of love to Christ ; it worked 
ponderously, and is now rusty. I confess, breth- 
ren, before you all, that I am waking up to new 
wants.” 

“ Well, I must say that if you are waking up, 
it is time I was,” said Amplias. “ I have been 
comparing myself with the picture of an apostolic 
Christian, found in the Word, and am astonished 
at the result. And another thing I have learned. 
It is this : . a mean, wicked envy has lain at the 
root of much of my aversion to the claimants of a 
' Higher Life.’ I could not bear the remotest 
thought that they possessed a light and a gift, 
superior to mine.” 

“ Permit me,” said Urban6, “ to state here one 
fact, that, in the ardor of conversation, was forgot- 
ten last week. It has been said that none of the 
dear brethren whose doctrines and whose lives 
have been under discussion, have been seen in my 
house. It is true, they have not held public meet- 
ings here ; but now one, and now another, has been 
welcomed in this room. We have talked and 


44 THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE. 


105 


prayed together, again and again. And while we 
have points of harmonious discord, we have more 
points of union. And I want to testify, that if 
there are some of them whom I cannot receive 
with edification, there are many others who bear 
the very image of Christ Himself. This room has 
been almost transfigured by their presence, and 
made a sort of heaven below.” 

“ I have always thought them a conceited set,” 
said Hermes ; “ but if you find anything in them to 
like, I suppose I can.” 

“And I have thought that all they wanted was 
to get together and have a good time, telling all 
their frames and feelings,” said another. 

“ They are good at praying and psalm-singing, 
but they leave all the work to us,” declared a 
third. 

“ Well,” said Urbane, with a smile, “ let us dis- 
card 4 conceited saints,’ if there are any ; 4 selfish 
saints,' ‘ascetic saints,’ who sit at ease by the fire, 
while I am feeding the hungry and clothing the 
naked, and, with them, every other form of saint- 
liness that does not bear the closest scrutiny, and 
to be tested by the Word of God. It is true, that 
in addition to not being saints ourselves, we may 
possess all their faults, and probably do ; but we 
make no pretension, and that is more than they 
can say.” 

5 * 


105 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


14 That mischievous twinkle in your eye, Urban6 
speaks volumes. I, for one, sit corrected,” said 
Hermes. 

“Pardon me, brother; I stand here to correct 
myself only. Every rash judgment I deplore, 
every assumption of wisdom I repel, I have de- 
plored and repelled in myself. No man should 
take a lower place here than I.” 

“ Excuse my interruption, then, and go on, 
please.” 

“ Well, take the genuine, sanctified man. Christ 
has come suddenly, or come gradually into his 
soul 

“ In regeneration ? ” 

“ Oh ! I ought to have stated that I am now 
speaking of an experience subsequent to regenera- 
tion.” 

“And necessarily one of its fruits ? ” 

“ No. I believe, that in the economy of God’s 
grace there are some of His real children who 
never hear of any such experience, could not un- 
derstand and would not seek it if they did, and 
have not the responsibility in this regard that 
many others have. They are quiet, humble, 
reverent, and possibly live up to what light they 
have. They are perplexed, sometimes, by the say- 
ings and doings of their more instructed brethren ; 
but they do not dispute with or cast stones at 


‘•THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.” 


IO/ 


them. They are not to be despised or criticised, 
but comforted and encouraged. Not a little of the 
modest work of life is done by them ; and if they 
never attain the highest enjoyments or fight the 
decisive battles of time, they escape much of its 
conflict and suffering, for both Providence and 
Satan can afford to let them alone, to a very great 
degree.” 

“ I infer that you allude to mental suffering,” 
suggested Claudia. 

“ Thank you for the correction. I ought to 
have made the distinction.” 

“Are we also to infer that strong souls endure 
conflicts unknown to weaker ones ? ” 

“ That is my opinion. For while it is true that a 
sanctified soul is a delightfully happy one, Satan 
has his moods of envy and rage, and at times lets 
fly at it his fiery darts, when its every energy is 
called into the field. This is peculiarly the case 
with those who are to do decisive work for Christ; 
for, as Leighton says : 1 God delights to call forth 
His champions to meet with great temptations, to 
make them bear crosses of more than ordinary 
weight, as commanders in war put men of most 
valor and skill upon the hardest services. He sets 
some strong, furious trial upon a strong Christian, 
made strong by His own grace, and, by his vic- 
tory, makes it appear to the world, that though 


io8 


urban£ and his friends. 


there is a great deal of the counterfeit coin of pro* 
fession in religion, yet some there are who have 
the power, the reality of it — that the very Spirit of 
God dwells in the hearts of true believers.’ Now, 
to go back to the main point. We were speaking 
of two experiences recognized by Christians as 
known to many. Christ enters the soul at re- 
generation, but rarely, if ever, at once gets full 
possession there.” 

“ I am glad the subject has come up again. If I 
can only get evidence that I am really regenerate — ” 
said Apelles. 

“ Oh, but you cannot ! You must trust to the 
witness of the Spirit.” 

“ How can I trust that which I have not ?’’ 

“Ask for increase of faith in God ; for faith to 
believe His promises. Until you know that you 
have been redeemed by His precious blood, your 
spiritual growth will be impeded, if not sus- 
pended.” 

“ Have I a right to plead for the witness of the 
Spirit?” 

“You may, and must.” 

“ Well, I have always regarded it as a becoming 
modesty on the part of most disciples, to speak with 
doubt and diffidence of their state before God,” 
said Amplias. 

“ My dear brother, you are quite right there. 


“THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.” 109 

The question, as touching your salvation, is not 
how you look in God’s eyes, but how He looks in 
yours.” 

“ Not long since, eager to clear up the point, I 
read Edwards on the 1 Religious Affections.’ It led 
me into a labyrinth of perplexity and discomfort, 
from which I should be thankful to emerge.” 

“We never shall become able to walk by sight. 
We have absolutely no righteousness of our own 
by which to walk. But we dishonor God by living 
in constant doubt and fear. ‘ In Him is life ; and the 
life is the light of men.’ Assurance of faith is not 
assurance of evidence. We can be sure of nothing 
in ourselves, for while we fancy in one hour that 
we would die for our Lord, we may find ourselves 
denying Him in the next.” 

“As vehemently as Peter did ? ” 

“ With vehemence virtually as great. Christ is 
denied by cowardly silence, by worldliness, by 
self-indulgence, in scores of ways' which He recog- 
nizes and feels.” 

“ Great complaint has been made in some quar- 
ters, in all good faith and honesty,’ but by those 
who know believers in what is called the higher 
life by report, rather than through personal ob- 
servation, that these devoted brethren spend so 
much time in introspection ; but the simple fact is, 
that this criticism applies almost exclusively to the 


rio 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


weak disciple, who spends nearly his whole life in 
analyzing his emotions, trying to find out — 

* Do I love the Lord, or no ? 

Am I His, or am I not ? ’ 

On the other hand, the full-grown believer never 
wastes his time over a problem long ago solved for 
him by sovereign grace, and is in such spiritual 
life and health that he need not be feeling his own 
pulse or studying his own symptoms, but is ‘at 
leisure from himself,’ and ‘ looking unto Jesus.’ ” 

“ All this is news to me,” said Hermes. 

“ We will assume, then, that the ideal man under 
discussion is truly regenerated, and humbly but 
firmly believes this to be the case. Now he will 
not long rest here. Regeneration is a birth into a 
new life, but a life that must prove its existence by 
growth. And growth begins at once. And the 
more sure and rapid the growth, the more holiness 
will become the ardent desire, and the more loath- 
some sin will appear. The Spirit responds to the 
aspirations breathed into the Divine ear, and leads 
on and on. And while, at times, He seems to 
guide the soul slowly and painfully, and by a cer- 
tain law of progression, at other times He has His 
diversities, and grants a sudden uplift of an extra- 
ordinary character. The blessing, however, is not 
arbitrarily vouchsafed. I think every one who has 


“THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE. 


Ill 


received it will testify that, though it came sudden- 
ly, it was not through sudden or careless seeking. 
There had been earnest waiting upon God, while 
expectation was from Him. I do not know what 
name to select for this experience that more per- 
fectly describes it than the scriptural one — ‘ Bap- 
tism of the Holy Spirit.’ And the result — imme- 
diate in some cases, remoter in others — is that the 
soul feels itself so transformed that it is filled with 
amazement and with joy. And the reason is this : 
Hitherto it was under a great degree of captivity 
to sin, and groaned under it, being burdened. In 
regeneration it became conqueror over death. In 
sanctification it becomes conqueror over life. The 
assurance of eternal salvation never satisfied it. 
It also wanted assurance of release from bondage 
to sin. But while the mortal body is always liable 
to death, so even the sanctified human soul is 
always liable to sin, if it looks away from Christ. 
But it is not the slave of sin ; sin does not reign 
over it. There is now unbroken peace with God. 
If I may so speak, there is an understanding between 
it and Him that is the source of perfect rest, oft- 
times of joy unspeakable. God has given it His 
faithful friendship. It yields Him faithful friend- 
ship in return.” 

“ Do you mean to have us understand that you 
think a man is suddenly so sanctified as to be 


1 12 


urban£ and his friends. 


beyond the need of spiritual growth ? ” asked 
Amplfas. 

“ I think there is spiritual growth as long as we 
exist. A state of grace that is very soul-satisfying 
may, through the admission of new light, be for- 
saken for a higher one. Last year’s nest does not 
meet the wants of this year’s songster.” 

“This interests me very much,” said Amplias. 
“But 1 am curious to know whether all who have 
this dispensation of the Spirit stand on one level ? ” 

“ I think they do not. There are varieties in 
this new family, as there were in the old one. The 
soul is kept free from sin by the indwelling Christ, 
just in proportion to the faith with which it holds 
Him.” 

“ Do you think that a man can fall from the state 
of grace you have described ? ” 

“ I think he can fall a certain distance, but not 
into ruin. Imperfect self-knowledge may, in some 
cases, make it necessary that he should fall, in his 
own eyes, at least.” 

“You have alluded repeatedly,” said Hermes, 
“ to religious experiences unknown to most of us, 
and these last two evenings have been devoted to 
their fuller discussion. But we still feel ourselves 
in the dark.” 

“ I have devoted two evenings to these sub- 
jects,” replied Urban6, “ because my soul has been 


“THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.” 113 

stirred by what seemed to me unjust attacks on a 
large class of earnest Christians, who profess to 
reach 4 a higher life,’ and have thus laid themselves 
open to the criticisms of those who, not having 
had their experience, cannot believe in it. I do 
not profess to know all that is meant by those who 
use this language, and, as it is not a scriptural, I 
think it an infelicitous expression. But when a 
man tells me that Christ has come into his soul 
in new light and life and energy, filling it with 
sacred joy and peace, and I know nothing in 
his career to lead me to doubt that he testifies 
of what he knows, I cannot help believing him. 
He may, sometimes, use language with which I 
cannot fully sympathize, but I may do the same to 
him/' 

44 And what attitude do you wish us to take?'* 
asked Apelles. 

44 All I wish is this: that you should go to your 
closets and ask God whether you are living fully 
up to His will — ” 

44 Oh, we need not do that ! ” cried several voices. 
44 Our consciences tell us, on the spot, that we are 
not.” 

44 Seek, then, for faith to live up to all the light 
you have. And remember that, as to genuine 
religious experience, 4 The seal of the Spirit of God 
is upon it, and this is the reading of that new name 


I 14 URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 

in the white stone, which no man knows but him 
that hath it.’ No one can deny that the ‘beloved 
disciple* of Christ’s day was, in the true, and not 
the offensive sense of the word, a mystic. No one 
who reads Paul’s paradoxes can doubt that he was 
one. Now, I do not care whether the mystics of 
our day are ‘ barbarians, Scythians, bond or free ; * 
whether they believe in a lower life or a higher 
life ; if they can say : ‘ Christ is all , and in all ,’ I 
believe in them, and love them ; and if they can 
tell me something new about Christ, I will gladly 
sit at their feet, and learn of them. It may be ob- 
jected, I know, that the ideal disciple of New 
Testament times did not belong to any school or 
adopt any peculiar, technical theory of piety; nor 
did he pretend that Christ had taught him secrets 
concealed from his less favored brethren. Grant- 
ing that this is true, it is not, I think, the whole 
truth. Let us glance at some facts in the history 
of the Church. After our Lord’s ascension, the 
Spirit was vSent, according to His promise, and the 
apostles were endued with power from on high. 
So mighty was the effect, that there were added 
unto them in one day about three thousand souls. 
To this number ‘the Lord added daily,’ and this 
body of men came to be regarded as a sect, and 
as such received a name. ‘ And the disciples 
were called Christians first at Antioch.’ No man 




"THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.” 1 1 5 

would ever have asked for a more significant 
name, if the Church had remained true to its 
Head. But it did not. The marked, boldly- 
pronounced features of apostolic piety soon be- 
gan to disappear. ‘ Gladness and singleness of 
heart’ began to disappear at the same time. 
Various forms of error crept in among the dis- 
ciples, contentions and schisms arose ; men began 
to put the world in Christ’s place, or, in other 
words, to live for self, not for Him. But a rem- 
nant of loving, praying, consecrated souls was 
«eft. Loyalty to their Master was the deepest 
principle and passion of their lives. And in every 
age we find that faithful band rallying around, 
defending, the cross. Now, this class of Chris- 
tians had peculiarities of its own that distin- 
guished it from the multitude of believers even, 
and it became necessary to give it some title. And 
as the ages varied, as even devoted and devout 
men varied, one espousing one form of belief, while 
his honest brother did battle for another ; all sorts 
of appellations came in vogue, and destroyed, to 
some degree, the true meaning and beauty of the 
word Christian. My brethren, when you now use 
that word, do you mean that every one who bears 
the name is Christ’s faithful servant, in the strictest 
sense in which the term is used ? ” 

“ It is not so mucn to the use of terms that 1 


116 URBAN# AND HIS FRIENDS. 

object/’ said Hermes; “ it is to deeds. You can- 
not deny that a certain class go off by themselves, 
professing that there is a new kind of experience 
known to them alone.” 

“ People who think and feel alike, naturally fall 
together,” replied Urban6. “ Scientific men do it; 
so do artists, and musicians. But if, by our cold- 
ness and deadness, we drive our brethren away, 
the fault is ours, not theirs. I do not believe that 
any body of real Bible-Christians is trying to form, 
or has formed, a sect which shuts out other Bible- 
Christians. We are one family, and Christ is our 
Head. It is true, there are to be found in every 
evangelical church men who, like myself, believe 
He may shine forth more gloriously in the soul 
than it is believed by others He ever does ; but 
this can hardly be called difference of doctrine : it 
is a practical question, which I desire every one of 
you should pursue for himself. I will close my 
remarks with words of Dr. Chalmers’ that seem to 
me to express vital truth : ‘ Unless I make religion 
my great and engrossing concern, I shall be a 
stranger to all solid peace and enjoyment. I have 
at times caught a glimpse of the comfort which it 
yields to the spirit, when I merge my will into 
God’s will — when I resolve to have no will of my 
own separate from God. I feel quite assured that 
this renunciation of self, and entire devotion to 


"THE HIGHER CHRISTIAN LIFE.' 


ii 7 


»» 


God’s service, would give a simplicity and gran- 
deur to my existence ; would throw an unclouded 
sunshine over all my ways ; would raise me above 
the cares and provocations of this life ; would en 
hance even my sensible gratifications, and superadd 
those gratifications of a higher order, which consti- 
tute the main and essential blessedness of heaven. 

0 my God, may it be thus with me ! Call me out 
of nature’s darkness into Thine own marvelous 
light. Give me to aspire after the graces, and to 
hold forth to my acquaintances, and, above all, to 
my children, the example of all righteousness. 
Conform me to the Gospel economy under which 

1 sit, that as Christ died for sin, I may die to it ; 
that as He rose again, I may rise to newness of life, 
and feel it my meat and drink to do Thy will.’ ” 

"Take its closing sentence home, and make it 
your prayer. And remember, as you do so, that 
when ‘Abraham believed God/ it was imputed 
unto him for righteousness ! Can stronger language 
than this be used to impress man with the immense 
honor God puts upon faith in His word ? ” 

The meeting was now closed, as usual, with 
prayer, and the little company dispersed. Three 
or four young persons, however, remained behind. 
They were, as yet, weak in faith, and much that 
they had heard bewildered them. Not one ol 
them possessed that assurance of which Urbane 


118 urban£ and his friends. 

had spoken, and they now gathered about him as 
children round a father to state difficulties and 
seek counsel. After listening patiently, Urbane 
took from his desk a little manuscript prepared 
years before for the instruction of his own son, and 
desired them to meet together at their conve- 
nience, and read, and discuss, and pray over it, 
till its full meaning should become plain to them. 
And as this allegory may be of use to some earnest 
young disciple, it is here given. 



CHAPTER IX. 

AN ALLEGORY. ’ 

BENEVOLENT man found a half- 
starved, homeless, blind beggar-boy in 
the streets of a great city. He took him, 
just as he was, to his own house, adopted 
him as his own son, and began to educate him. But 
the boy learned very slowly, and his face was often 
sad. His father asked him why he did not fix his 
mind more upon his lessons, and why he was not 
cheerful and happy, like the other children. The 
boy replied that his mind was constantly occupied 
with the fear that he had not really been adopted 
as a son, and might at any moment learn his 
mistake. 

Father . But can you not believe me when I 
assure you that you are my own, dear son? 

Boy. I cannot ; for I can see no reason why you 
should adopt me. I was a poor, bad boy ; you did 
not need any more children,, for you had a house 
full of them, and I never can do anything for you. 

(» 9 ) 





120 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


Father . You can love me and be happy; and as 
you grow older and stronger, you can work for me. 

Boy . I am afraid I do not love you ; that is 
what troubles me. 

Father. Would you not be very sorry to have 
me deny that you are my son, and turn you out 
of the house ? 

Boy . Oh, yes ! But perhaps that is because you 
take good care of me, not because I love you. 

Father. Suppose, then, I should provide some 
one else to take care of you, and should then leave 
you ? 

Boy. That would be dreadful. 

Father . Why? You would be taken good care 
of, and have every want supplied. 

Boy. But I should have no father. I should 
lose the best thing I have. I should be lonely. 

Father. You see you love me a little, at all 
events. Now, do you think I love you ? 

Boy. I don’t see how you can. I ‘am such a bad 
boy, and try your patience so. And I am not hall 
as thankful to you for your goodness, as I ought 
to be. Sometimes, for a minute, I think to myself, 
lie is my father and he really loves me ; then I do 
something wrong, and t-think nobody would want 
such a boy, nobody can love such a boy. 

Father. My son, I tell you that I do love you, 
but you cannot believe it because you do not know 


AN ALLEGORY. 


121 


me. And you do not know because you have not 
seen me ; because you are blind. I must have you 
cured of this blindness. 

So the blind boy had the scales removed from 
his eyes, and began to see. He became so inter- 
ested in using his eyesight that, for a time, he par- 
tially lost his old habit of despondency. But one 
day, when it began to creep back, he saw his 
father’s face light up with love, as one after another 
of his children came to him for a blessing, and said 
to himself, They are his own children, and it is not 
strange that he loves them, and does so much to 
make them happy. But I am nothing but a beggar- 
boy ; he can’t love me. I would give anything if 
he could. Then the father asked why his face was 
sad, and the boy told him. 

Father . Come into this picture-gallery, and tell 
me what you see. 

Boy . I see a portrait of a poor, ragged, dirty 
boy. And here is another. And another. Why, 
the gallery is full of them ! 

Father. Do you see anything amiable and lova- 
ble in any of them ? 

Boy. Oh, no ! 

Father. Do you think I love your brothers? 

Boy. I know you do ! 

Father. Well, here they are, just as I took the 

poor fellows out of the streets. 

6 


122 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


Boy. Out of the streets, as you did me ? They 
are all your adopted sons ? 

Father . Every one of them. 

Boy. I don’t understand it. What made you do 
it? 

Father. I loved them so that I could not help it 

Boy. I never heard of such a thing ! You loved 
these miserable beggar-boys? Then you must be 
made of Love ! 

Father. I am. And that is the reason I am so 
grieved when some such boys refuse to let me 
become their father. 

Boy. Refuse? Oh, how can they? Refuse to 
become your own, dear sons? Refuse to have such 
a dear, kind, patient father ? Refuse love ? 

Father. My poor, little blind boy, don’t you 
now begin to see your father’s heart? Don’t 
you see that I did not wait for these adopted 
sons of mine to wash and clothe themselves, to be- 
come good, and obedient, and affectionate, but 
loved them because they were such destitute, 
wicked, lost boys. I did not go out into the streets 
to look for well-dressed, w el 1-care d-for, . faultless 
children, who would adorn my house, and shine 
in it like jewels. I sought for outcasts ; I loved 
them as outcasts; I knew they would be un- 
grateful and disobedient, and never love me 
half as much as I did them; but that made me 


AN ALLEGORY. 


123 


all the more sorry for them. See what pains I 
am taking with them, and how beautifully some ot 
them are learning their lessons. And now tell me 
my son, in seeing this picture-gallery, do you not 
begin to see me? Could anything less than love 
take in such a company of poor beggars ? 

Boy . Yes, my father, I do begin to see it. I do 
believe that I know you better now than I ever did 
before. I believe you love even me. And now I 
know that I love you ! 

Father. Now, then, my dear son, let that vexing 
question drop forever, and begin to act as m;y son 
and heir should. You have a great deal to learn, 
but I will myself be your teacher, and your mind 
is now free to attend to my instructions. Do you 
find anything to love and admire in your brothers? 

Boy . Indeed, I do. 

Father. You shall be taught the lessons that 
have made them what they are. Meanwhile, I want 
to see you look cheerful and happy, remembering 
that you are in your father’s heart. 

Boy . Dear father, I will ! But oh, help me to 
be a better son ! 

Father. Dear boy, I will. 



CHAPTER X. 

STEPHANAS AND HERMES. 

ET us turn aside here to follow Hermes 
to his home, there to make the acquaint- 
ance of his relative Stephanas. 

He was in his own room, seated before 
a ruddy fire, and on each knee he held a little grand- 
child. One was a boy of four, with a thoughtful 
face ; the other his twin-brother, full of animation 
and spirit. Hermes offered to take one of the chil- 
dren, but both hung back, and clung to their 
grandfather. 

“ They love you better than they do me/’ said 
Hermes. “ Do you call that fair? ” 

“ That is because they see so little of you,” was 
the reply. “ Now I am in-doors so much that I am 
nurse, and playmate, and papa, all in one.” 

“ I wish you would send them off to bed,” said 
Hermes, “I want to have a little talk with you.” 

“ But this is their hour,” replied Stephanas, 
(*h) 



STEPHANAS AND HERMES. 12 5 

(i The}" always come to me for an hour, after 
dinner.” 

“ This is the fourth time that I have tried to get 
an opportunity to speak with you,” objected 
Hermes. “You really seem to wish to eVade me.” 

“ Well, little bo} r s, will you give grandpapa up, 
for just this once ? ” asked Stephanas. 

They looked at each other, and at him ; evident- 
ly they were accustomed to yield to his wishes, 
and yet the loss of an hour of story-telling was a 
great sacrifice to them. 

Stephanas whispered a few words to them which 
had a magic effect. They put their little arms 
around his neck, kissed him, slipped down from 
his knee, and said to Hermes, “We make you a 
present of grandpapa for to-night.” 

“ And I suppose he has promised to make you 
a present of some candy, in return,” said Hermes. 

“ Why, no, it isn’t that ! ” said one of them, “ all 
he said was, that when Jesus was a little boy, four 
years old, he would do whatever He was asked ; 
and we love Jesus, dearly.” 

This little speech may sound somewhat prig- 
gish to those not accustomed to young children. 
But it was in truth a natural utterance of the cheer- 
ful faith generally found in them when they live 
am^ng saintly influences, which are not morbid, 
but sound. Always hearing Stephanas speak of 


126 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


Christ as his personal, beloved Friend, these chil- 
dren never knew the time when they did not be- 
lieve in and love Him. 

Neither of them had ever used the word “ I ” in 
his life. It was always “ we.” 

They stood before their father now, in the 
simplicity and freshness of childhood, a beautiful 
brace of boys. Hermes looked at them and sighed ; 
his troubled air repelled them ; they kissed him 
timidly, and withdrew. 

Hermes sat a long time in silence. He hardly 
knew how to begin. At last he said : 

“ Do you think Urbane’s notions sound ? ” 

“ His notions ? What notions ? ’’ 

“ On religious subjects.” 

“ Oh, has he been talking to you ?” 

“ To me, and other members of his church. He 
thinks we are not living up to our privileges, and 
he has so stirred up some of the young people that 
they talk of nothing else.” 

“ What, forsake their proper ^vocations ? ” asked 
Stephanas, in surprise. 

“ No, not quite that. But it seems to me it is 
better to livfe one’s religion, than to talk it.” 

Certainly ; but does Urbane teach any other 
doctrine ? ” 

“ Not in so many words. But I think the ten- 
dency of such religious exhortation is to make 


STEPHANAS A^D HERMES. 


12; 

people look too much at themselves and their own 
experiences.” 

Stephanas was silent. 

“ I never liked introspection,” said Hermes. 

“ My son,” said Stephanas, “ you misapprehend 
Urbane, if you suppose he does. Nothing can be 
farther from his own personal habit than to look 
into himself, or counsel others to practices of the 
sort. I have heard him preach many times, and it 
could all be summed up in these words: ‘Christ 
Alpha and Omega ’ — ‘ Christ all in all.’ ” 

“ Yes,” said Hermes, thoughtfully, “ that is true. 
At the same time, I never heard him preach in the 
pulpit as he talks now in his study.” 

“ I think I can explain that. The fullness of time 
had not come for him. He doubted whether he 
should gain anything by promulgating doctrines 
to which some might object. But I presume he 
has been led to feel that a revival is needed in his 
church, and has begun, as he Ought to do, among 
those who profess Christ. It would be useless to 
undertake to ‘ revive ’ what has never been alive.” 

“ That has not occurred to me,” said Hermes. 
“ And now, to come to the very heart of things, I 
hear, through Urbane, that many years ago you 
passed through a certain religious experience, of a 
remarkable character. I confess that I felt hurt 
that you had never spoken of this to me.” 


128 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ My dear son, would you have listened with 
respect, had I tried to do so ? ” 

“ Perhaps not. Probably not. Yet, four years 
ago, when I was left wifeless and you childless, 
and life had lost all attraction^ for me — was I not 
softened then?” 

“ You were, indeed ; and I thought God’s set 
time for uniting you fully to Himself had come. 
But then came almost instantaneous reaction ; you 
steeled yourself to bear your sorrow in stony 
silence ; not even through those motherless little 
ones could I get access to you.” 

“ They robbed me of the wife of my youth,” was 
the gloomy reply. 

“ God was the robber,” said Stephanas, gently, 
‘ if you were robbed. These dear little boys were 
not in fault.” 

“ I take no pleasure in them,” said Hermes. 
“ They do not love me.” 

“ Love must give, in order to receive,” said 
Stephanas. “As far as a man can supply a woman’s 
place, I should have been glad to see you playing 
with, teaching, loving, these dear boys. Children 
need to have gladsome things about them, but 
your gloom has repelled your little ones.” 

“ Is it not enough to make a man gloomy to lose 
his wife ? ” 

“ No, my son ; not if he is in Christ. A man can 


STEPHANAS AND HERMES. 


129 


suffer without gloom. A well-spring of joy is found 
in every sanctified heart, and it is a joy that no out. 
ward want can disturb.” 

“ The day I was born joy died.” 

Stephanas was silent, yet looking upward for 
counsel what to say next. 

Hermes, however, spoke first. 

“Urbane,” he said, “has been trying to show 
that at different periods of even regenerate life, 
men come under a special dispensation of the 
Spirit, and are brought into very close and de- 
lightful relations to Christ. Do you agree with 
him ? ” 

“ I do. But you do not understand him as say- 
ing that these new processes are necessary ; that 
some souls do not, from the outset, go on from 
strength to strength, with no marked religious 
epoch in their Christian career ? ” 

“ No, he never says that. He refers rather to 
those who started feebly and have walked falter- 
ingly. He says, too, that those who are to be 
made special workmen in the Church have special 
preparation ; while with others these marvelous 
revelations of Christ are only given on the death- 
bed, as foretaste® of heaven.” 

“ 1 agree with him, perfectly.” 

“ He urges us to consecrate ourselves wholly to 
God, and to make personal holiness the first object 
6 * 


130 


urban£ and his friends. 


in life. Now, the word has a somewhat vague 
meaning, to my mind.” 

“ When Christ was upon earth, He gave what 
we may consider its definition, when He said : 
‘ Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy 
heart, and with all thy soul, and with all thy 
strength., and with all thy mind ; and thy neighbor 
as thyself.’ Perfect love to God, perfect love to 
man. Heaven begun below ! ” 

“ But such perfection is impossible.” 

“ If that is true, God demands something He 
knows man can never attain.” 

“ But look at the mass of even renewed men and 
women. They make mistakes that are incompre- 
hensibly absurd, and display an amount of imper- 
fection to those who know them intimately, that is 
fearful.” 

“ But you and I have nothing to do with the 
errors or sins of others, save in the way of tender 
pity for them, and deep, humble gratitude to God 
if He keeps us from kindred failures. Dear Hermes, 
believe all Urban6 tells you, and go to God, re- 
solved to find the love that he preaches and ex- 
emplifies. I assure you, it will transfigure life to 
you.” 

“ l am getting my ideas a little clarified, but am 
still somewhat skeptical, hardly knowing what to 
aim at.’ 


STEPHANAS AND HERMES. 131 

“ Take the word of God as your standard, and 
then follow its teachings. If you think it speaks 
equivocally on the subject of holiness, do not 
argue the matter, but find out for yourself how 
perfectly Christ can live in you.” 

“ I never shall be a Saint Paul.” 

“ Of course not. You are not called upon to be 
another man, but to make the best of the man God 
has committed to your charge. My dear Hermes, 
how I have longed to see this day ! Are you not 
conscious that the Spirit is hovering about you, 
waiting to be gracious?” 

“ But I have s$ little time.” 

“ It takes but a moment of time to believe in 
Christ.” 

“ I know that docile natures receive Him, at 
regeneration, with great ease and simplicity ; and 
I suppose such natures enter readily into deeper 
experiences, as they are explained to them. But I 
am not one of that sort. I have to dig my way to 
what I want. I went through fire and water at the 
time of my conversion.” 

“ Well, did the ‘fire and water’ convert you, or 
did you, at last, in self-despair, drop the contest, 
and receive Christ by faith ? ” 

“ I shall have to own that I did cease to struggle, 
and then believed.” 

“And thus you are to receive Him anew, if you 


132 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

want Him to come and give a more soul-satisfying 
view of Him self.” 

“ I must own that I do want just that. Urban6’s 
talks and prayers have led me to much reflection. 
I am not a happy man, and I yearn for rest. And 
if I knew I could become like him by walking 
round the world, I would begin the walk to- 
night.” 

“ I do not doubt it, nor that a crowd of eager, 
restless beings would go with you. But since the 
simple ‘ walk of faith’ will make you like Christ, 
why walk round the world to be like Urban6? 
How he would shudder at the idea of your imitat- 
ing him — a weak, mortal man ! ” 

“I must ask one question more. Are you and 
Urband, and men of your stamp, perfectly satisfied 
with what you know and possess of Christ?” 

“ In the sense of being perfectly at rest, we are 
satisfied. But we every day, as we advance in the 
knowledge and love of our dear Lord, find depths 
in Him hitherto unexplored ; there is, therefore, an 
ever-sensible but sweet yearning to know and love 
more. Our capacities keep enlarging, that we 
may take in more, and will, I think, through all 
eternity.” 

“ You believe in the work of grace, then, as pro- 
gressive,” said Hermes, in a tone of great relief. 
‘I supposed the whole thing, according to Ur- 


STEPHANAS AND HERMES. 


133 

Sane, was to be done once for all, and in the twink- 
ling of an eye.” 

“ I am sure you misunderstood him, then. I 
know that Urban6 has had afflictions and trials that 
were the occasions of spiritual growth, and that 
he has repeatedly felt the need of deeper spiritual 
work within. At one time in our lives, both being 
deeply impressed with a desire for greater useful- 
ness, we met every day in his study, to claim the 
promise made to ‘ two or three.’ ” 

‘‘And were those prayers answered ? 

“ Can you doubt that they were ? Why, the 
windows of heaven were fairly opened /” 

There was a long silence, Hermes looking 
steadily into the fire, Stephanas steadfastly look- 
ing up to Christ. 

At last, Hermes said : “ I have a confession to 
make to you, father. When Urbane first spoke of 
you as having had remarkable revelations made to 
you in your youth, I was incredulous. I never 
knew you till my marriage, five years ago ; and 
when you came to live, at that time, under my 
roof, I thought you one of the simplest, freshest, 
gladdest characters I ever had met, always except- 
ing my dear wife. But I did not dream that this 
simplicity and joyousness were the results of reli- 
gious, rather than traits of natural life ; nor did 1 
ever recognize the Christ dwelling in my darling. 


134 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

But I have been reading over her letters and 
reviewing her life, and, unsuspected by you, 
trying to trace to their hidden sources your peace 
and jcy, as well as hers. And no sermon, no book, 
has impressed me like the Christian living of you 
two.” 

The eyes of Stephanas filled with tears ; he gave 
his hand to Hermes, but, for some moments, could 
not speak. He then rose, went to his desk, un- 
locked it, and took thence a letter. 

“ The time has come, I think,” he said, “ to put 
you into possession of this letter, which was ad- 
dressed to you by the mother of your boys very 
shortly before their birth. She charged me not to 
give it to you one moment too soon, even if I had 
to wait years for that moment. Take it to your 
own room, and read it there; and may God bless 
you ! ” 

For an unemotional man, Hermes was greatly 
moved ; the precious document in his hand was 
almost as sacred as if it had come from heaven it- 
self ; and he locked himself into his room with 
jealous care, lest some other eye than his own 
should fall upon its pages. 

My Darling Husband In a very few hours, perhaps, I 
shall be a radiant young- mother. Oh, what a word for poor little 
me to use ! But I may also be a radiant young soul, going 
straight home to Christ. And that would be yet more wonder- 


STEPHANAS AND HERMES. 


135 


ful ! If I am not, this letter will never reach you ; if your dear 
hands are holding it now, I shall have been gone a good while 
perhaps. Now let me try to fancy it : I have been a happy little 
mother one hour, two hours, a few days — oh, so happy ! and 
then we fall into each other’s arms, and have only time to say 
good-bye, and I go away to Christ. I cannot take you with me ; 
I cannot even take that little, helpless treasure with me ; but I 
am not afraid to go, for I go to what is far better. But you, my 
darling, what will you do ? You will never want another wife ; 
and at first you will not love even my baby, and you will not 
let anybody get near enough to comfort you. You will think 
God cruel for taking me away ; and instead of going to Him for 
rest, you will plunge into business, and try to have no time to 
think. Father will be my baby’s mother, and he will not talk 
to and annoy you ; he will just go on living his beautiful life, 
and praying for you, and at last the day will come when he can 
give you this letter. And your poor, lonely, frozen heart will 
melt ; you will cry like a child, and then you will fling yourself 
down on the little rug by my bedside, where I used to pray, and 
give yourself away to Christ in that new, precious way He taught 
me. I think it quite worth while that I should die for this, for 
now, Hermes, you will begin to live ! 

The strong, proud man cast the letter from him 
with a gesture of despair, and gave. away to such a 
burst of tears as mortal eye rarely sees. The 
bright girl who had walked by his side only one 
year, had taken his measure ; all she had prophe- 
sied had come to pass. And when grief had had 
its way, he threw himself down upon the conse- 
crated spot where the youthful wife had prayed, 
and lifted up his cry to heaven. Hour succeeded 
hour, and he prayed on, all the strength of a 
determined will holding him there; and just as 


136 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

the early morning- dawned, such a flood-tide of 
peace and joy overwhelmed his soul that he could 
hardly sustain it. From that moment he was a 
new man. He who of stones could raise up chil- 
dren unto Abraham, was able, out of this flinty 
heart, to form a warm, and tender, and loving one. 
Hermes had no difficulty now in winning his little 
boys ; they had gained, not only an affectionate 
father, but a delightful playfellow. His new-found 
happiness ran over in all sorts of genial little 
streams, so that Stephanas fairly renewed his 
youth. Hermes talked no more about “ want of 
time.” He found “ time ” to grow in grace, “ time ” 
to study the Word of God, “time” to work for 
Christ, “ time ” to pray. 

Let us not fancy this marked change a fabulous 
one. Let the skeptic, on the contrary, resolve to 
Know, by experience, whether such things can be. 

And now let a word of caution be offered. The 
night of laborious prayer through which Hermes 
passed is not held up as a model for persons in 
delicate health, or those of advanced years, whose 
days of strong emotion shonld not be renewed. 
If they want the blessing, they may have it with- 
out the price of a long night or nights of weeping ; 
it is not tears, it is not emotion, that plucks it out 
of an unwilling hand — it is faith laying hold of a 
loving, waiting, yearning Heart. 





CHAPTER XI. 


FAITH. 



EVERAL persons had requested that the 
subject of Faith might be discussed, and 
Urban6 accordingly introduced it thus ? 

“ In looking at the character of fallen 
man, we see that he has lost the image of God, in 
which he was created, and find that he is not only 
driven out of his earthly paradise, but that the 
gates of heaven are also closed against him. But 
Christ has come and suffered in his stead ; and 
both Love and Justice are satisfied. A blessed in- 
heritance lies before him, subject, however, to his 
own will.” 

“ To his own will! How is that?” asked Ap- 
elles. 

“ ‘ Ye will not come to me, that ye might have 
life. ’ God sets the way before man in His Word, 
by His Spirit, and in every other possible form of 
instruction.” 

(137) 




138 URBANE and his friends. 

“ But why does He not oblige men to repent and 
believe ? ” asked Amplias. 

“ I do not know. I only know that He nevei 
destroys man’s free agency. He sets the truth 
plainly before him, that he must repent and be- 
lieve, and leaves him to his choice.” 

“And why is it so hard to do these simple 
things? ” 

“ The difficulty lies a good deal in man’s want of 
simplicity. Most persons have a notion that a long 
series of emotional exercises must be gone through 
with in order to get into a state which will dispose 
God to regard them as favorable objects of mercy. 
The truth is, the moment God says to a sinner, 
* Believe on Me, and thou shalt be saved,’ the in- 
stantaneous reply should be, * Lord, 1 believe, help 
Thou mine unbelief.’ But instead of doing that, he 
begins to parley with God. He says he wants to 
feel more ; that he is quite unworthy, that he is a 
great sinner, that he cannot see any reason why he 
should be saved. The struggle becomes very pain- 
ful ; he weeps, and groans, and prays, and strives, 
and the harder he works the less progress he 
makes. At last, seeing that he never shall be fit to 
come to Christ, he falls into His outstretched arms 
and is safe. He has found out what saving faith 
means. But he also soon begins to find that he has 
taken only one step, and that there- is yet another 


FAITH. 


139 


sort of faith which he must exercise, or all his life- 
time be subject to bondage. For he becomes more 
and more conscious every day, of the existence of 
an element within that is "contrary to the mind and 
will of God. Now a new struggle begins. He is 
determined to be righteous, and says so. But as 
fast as he cuts oft the head of one sin, another 
springs up. He makes new resolutions, watches, 
weeps, prays, repents, and fails. He is bitterly 
grieved, ashamed, and disappointed. He cries, ‘ O 
wretched man that I am, who shall deliver me 
from the body of this death ? * ” 

“ You have painted my portrait to the life. This 
was my exact experience at _one time,” said 
Antioch us. 

“ And mine,” said Hermes, “ up to a certain 
point.” 

“Nor has mine been much better,” said Apelles. 
“ Isn’t it hard that we have to go through life thus 
tormented? Is it not almost enough to keep men 
from following Christ, if they get so little comfort 
out of Him?” 

“Has He not promised us His peace?” asked 
Urban6. 

“ Does that mean anything more than a tolera- 
bly comfortable hope of eternal life?” 

“ Do you suppose that Paul spent his Christian 
life in a state of unrest?” asked Urbane. 


140 URBANE and his friends. 

“ Certainly. Everybody does, except a few 
boasting Pharisees, who imagine themselves per- 
fect.” 

“Let us look at Paul’s whole life, rather than 
judge him by one utterance. What are the be 
liever’s sources of happiness? ” 

“ The hope of eternal life ; peace with God, love 
to Christ, love to man, usefulness,” said Apelles. 

“ Right. Paul had all these sources of happi- 
ness to a very unusual degree, and in addition, he 
had revelations made to him that he dared not 
utter. His life was unselfish, it was brimming with 
love to his Master and to the Church, and crowded 
with labors. It had its sorrows, and trials, and 
hardships, but he says, 4 1 am filled with comfort, I 
am exceeding joyful in all our tribulation ; ’ and 
has evidently triumphed over sin, since in his part- 
ing words he says he has ‘ fought a good fight,* 
and ‘ kept the faith.’ ” 

“ But was not this one of his last utterances : 
1 Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, 
of whom I am chief? * And again, 4 1 am the least 
of all saints? ’ ” 

“ Well, was he the least of all saints, and the chief 
of all sinners? I believe he was a sinful man, in the 
sense that he was liable to sin if left to himself, and 
that this is true of every saint. But that Paul, and 
men of his stamp, spend their lives in sins and groans, 





FAITH. 141 

[ do not believe. To say ‘ Christ liveth in me/ but 
it is in the midst of self-seeking, wrath, envy, pride, 
and all manner of unholy passions, is a contradic- 
tion. I shall hope to resume the subject of the 
indwelling Christ on some future evening. Mean- 
while, let us avoid useless discussions, and be con- 
stantly looking, not at ourselves, but 6 unto Jesus.’ ” 

“ May I ask you a personal question ? ” asked 
Amp lias. 

“ You may probe me through and through.” 

“ Are you seeking perfection ? ” 

“ T am. I hate so much as a hair of my head 
that is not conformed to the will of God, and live 
in the daily pursuit of that will.” 

“ Well, now, since we began these meetings, and 
you had said that faith is better than fight, I have 
tried to trust God to deliver me from an easily-be- 
setting sin, that hfos been a trial to me all my life. 
And I have been worse than ever.” 

“ A praying child of God growing worse ! It is 
not true. Your conscience has only been led to 
set up a higher standard. I happen to know to 
what you refer, and am happy to say that one of 
your family told me that it was giving way before 
divine grace.” 

“ I am almost sorry you told me, for now I shall 
be less on my guard, and so fall into it again, or 
else have a fit of spiritual pride, which is worse.” 


142 URBANlS AND HIS FRIENDS. 

“ And cannot Christ so stand between you and 
yourself, that you can see Him only ? ” 

“ You used very strong language just now about 
your hatred of sin. Sin has never been made so 
exceeding sinful ’ to me,” said Amplias. 

“ A true sense of sin is the gift of God. Our self- 
knowledge is about equal to a grain of sand. But 
knowledge of Christ is worth any amount of self- 
knowledge, for it is His holiness that makes 
vileness so exceedingly vile. The eye of the sanc- 
tified soul is very sensitive; the merest speck of 
dust hurts it and brings tears.” 

“ That is not true of the eye of my soul. I be- 
lieve I need a complete renovating.” 

“ And this renovating no man can do for himself. 
It is the work of the Spirit.” 

“ What is the process of sanctification?” asked 
Apelles. 

“ The Spirit has diversities of operation, but the 
one universal method is to be found in the dying 
words of our Lord, when He spake unto the 
Father of a mystical union between Himself and 
His Church. 1 1 in them, and Thou in me, that 
they may be made perfect in one; and that the 
world may know that Thou hast sent me, and hast 
loved them as Thou hast loved me.’ 

“ W e have here, first, a new assurance that ‘ God 
is love,’ since we are told that Fie loves His Church 


FAITH. 


143 


as he loves His Son. And, second, we learn that 
Christ will enter the souls of His beloved, and 
dwell there. Hence Paul says, * But of Him are 
ye in Christ Jesus, who of God is made unto us 
wisdom and righteousness, and sanctification and 
redemption : that according as it is written, He 
that glorieth, let Him glory in the Lord.’ And 
again, ‘ I live, yet not I but Christ liveth in 
me/ ” 

“ But I do not understand how Christ lives in a 
soul/’ 

“ Perhaps I can make it somewhat plainer to you 
by an illustration. Here is a man whom the owner 
of a certain vineyard has placed there to dress and 
to keep it. The man digs about the vines, waters 
them, exhausts his strength over them, but they 
bear next to no fruit, and that of poor quality. He 
tries new methods of culture in vain. He fancies 
his soil must be worse than that of his neighbor, 
who gathers a rich harvest every year, and grows 
discontented, discouraged and despairing. He says 
to himself, ‘ I have done all I can. It is obvious 
that I am incapable of keeping this vineyard, and 
as I have an account to render to its owner, must 
find some one able and willing to undertake this' 
work/ He finds him, and gives up the manage- 
ment of everything into his hands, but watches to 
see what is done. The new vine-dresser cuts up 


144 URBANS AND HIS FRIENDS. 

the brambles that are entangled among the vines, 
and gives them to be burned ; he roots up and 
throws away many of the vines themselves ; all 
that remain he prunes till the vineyard becomes 
unsightly. But anon, a new, sound growth springs 
up ; everything puts on an aspect of health, and 
fruit rewards the labor. This is a very feeble 
image of what will be the result when a man 
ceases from ‘ deadly doing/ and admits Christ into 
his soul ; it touches the truth at only one point, 
however, for man is not to sit with folded hands 
and let the. process of assimilation go on, without 
the energetic concurrence of his own will.” 

“ All this gives one a new idea on the subject of 
personal holiness. If what you say is true, we 
need no longer struggle for spiritual attainments, 
but juut let Christ’s graces shine forth from us. 
But alas ! who, save Paul, dares say, ‘ Christ liveth 
in me ? ’ ” 

“ It is my privilege to point you to yours, and I 
hope for more and more light from on high, with 
which to keep on doing it.” 

“ It is a great mystery, this union of Christ to 
the believer.” 

“ It is. You will hear the apostles speaking 
again and again of the ‘ mystery of faith,’ the 
‘ mystery of godliness,’ the ' mystery of God.’ But 
the mystery, ‘ the secret of the Lord, is with them 


FAITH. I45 

that fear Him.’ He conceals nothing from us that 
we need to know.” 

“ In order to enable us to understand the union 
✓ between Himself and the soul, He uses varied 
language concerning it. He says, ‘I am the vine, 
and ye are the branches;’ that He ‘ abides in us, 
and we in Him and in wonderful condescension 
He makes the conjugal relation a type of His atti- 
tude towards us; I really feel, in reading such ex- 
pressions of desire to come down to our poor, 
human comprehension, as I suppose I should do if 
He proposed to wash my feet, as He once humbled 
Himself to wash those of the disciples.” So spake 
Philologus, in unusual warmth. 

“There is always humility in real love,” said 
Urbane, “and as Christ has shown His in endless 
acts of condescension to us, so let us manifest ours 
to Him by the deepest humiliation and lowliness 
of heart. And I trust you are now prepared to 
admit that as man is unable to save, so he is unable 
to sanctify himself; that as faith in Christ justifies, 
so faith in Christ sanctifies him. Leighton says: 

“ * It is the inactivity of faith in Jesus that keeps 
us so imperfect, and wrestling still with our cor- 
ruptions, without any advancement. We wrestle 
in our own strength too often, and so are justly — 
yea, necessarily foiled ; it cannot be otherwise till 
we make Him our strength.’ ” 

7 


146 urban£ and his friends. 

“ I cannot say that ‘all things have become new 
to me,” said Amplias, ‘‘and it is a matter of grief 
and shame with me that this is the case. I wish I 
understood better what I really do need. What is 
to be our subject next week ? ” 

“ Have you one you wish discussed ? ” asked 
Urbane. 

“ If it will not interfere with your plan, I should 
be glad of some suggestions on the subject of 
prayer.” 

“ Very well. I shall enter upon it with great 
interest.” 


CHAPTER XII. 


PRAYER. 

T has not surprised me,” said Urban6, 
“ to learn that many of you young 
people are in no little confusion of 
mind as to some of the thoughts I 
have expressed here. The subjects discussed are 
attended with grave and subtle difficulties, and, 
perhaps, in trying to fix your eye on some of your 
privileges, I have ‘ darkened counsel ’ by unwise 
words. I entreat you alt to join me in the prayer 
that I may not be a ‘ blind leader of the blind,’ or 
encourage hopes life is doomed to disappoint. As 
we advance, I trust to show what you may expect 
from God, if you give all to God, more clearly than 
in these few interviews I have been able to do. 

“ I have been requested to speak, this evening, 
on the subject of prayer. If any of you have ques- 
tions to ask, 1 shall be glad to hear, and try to 
answer, them.” 

(147) 



148 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ I have been talking with a young friend of my 
own age,” said Apelles, “ on the subject of having 
stated seasons of prayer in the closet. He laughs 
at the idea. He says one should be guided entirely 
by one’s moods in the Divine, as in human friend- 
ships. He says no man goes to see another by 
rule ; he goes when he feels like it.” 

“ He compares his relations to the most august 
Being in the universe, to his ordinary, human 
friendships ? ” 

“ Oh, I did not agree with him ; yet I did not 
know exactly what to say.” 

“The Word of God only partially instructs us 
how often we should retire from all other fellow- 
ships to be alone with Him, but I believe no 
earnest Christian, in his senses, fails to do it twice 
or thrice daily, and we read of one who said, 
‘ Seven times a day do I praise Thee.’ ” 

“ But this was not in the closet necessarily,” said 
Philologus. 

“ No ; nor could many persons secure time for 
seven seasons of retirement. But morning and 
evening sacrifice should certainly be offered.” 

“ But suppose one is not in a prayerful mood 
when his allotted season arrives ? ” was asked. 

“ Let him go and tell his Father so, and ask Him, 
for Christ’s sake, to forgive this coldness ; and to 
be shown its cause.” 


PRAYER. 


149 


ohall he do this, day after day ? ” 

44 Yes, if that is the best he can do. It has been 
justly said that one must serve an apprenticeship 
to the art of prayer, before he can learn it. We 
have, some of us, seen a lump of clay placed upon 
a wheel, and a pair of human hands, amid the 
revolutions of that wheel, evolve from the shape- 
less mass a cup of graceful proportions, which 
seems wrought by a magical touch. But we are 
assured by the artisan that his is one of the most 
difficult of trades ; that it is learned through long 
failure and discouragement, and that what looks 
like the magician’s wand, is really the skill of an 
accomplished workman. Now, a man must learn 
to pray through many a trial and defeat ; yet learn 
he must, or his soul shall starve and die.” 

“ But where is he to find time ? ” 

“Just where he finds time to perform the other 
duties of life.” 

“And you would insist on it as a habit?” 

“ Yes ; insisting is the exact word.” 

“ Suppose it is performed merely as a duty ; 
tvhat then ? ” 

“ Perform the duty.” 

“ But we do not want our earthly triends to come 
to us from a sense of duty. If they have no better 
motive, they are welcome to stay away.” 

“ Therein we see one of the differences between 


150 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


Divine and human friendship. Our Father, know- 
ing our ignorance, sinfulness, and weakness, has 
provided a way to impart His wisdom and holiness 
to us. He invites us to come and tell Him what 
we want. He never says, ‘ My child, when your 
heart is overflowing with love for Me, come and 
tell Me all about it, that I may enjoy it/ He says, 
4 When you are cold and dead, come and tell Me, 
that I may inspire you, by my Spirit, with warmth/ 
Nor does He say, ‘ When you feel wise, come and 
impart of your wisdom to Me ; ’ but when you can 
say, ‘ So foolish am I, and ignorant, I am as a beast 
before Thee,’ He declares, ‘ Come to me, then, and 
from a foolish and ignorant beast I will transform 
you into a perfect man in Christ Jesus/ ” 

“ Does not consciousness of sin often keep one 
from the throne of grace ? ” 

“ Through false views of God, it does. But the 
sooner one learns that he never will be worthy to 
speak to God in prayer, the better for him. No 
matter how holy he may become, he can never 
approach God, save through the mercy and merits 
of Christ ; never.” 

“ Some think it mechanical and formal to set 
apart fixed seasons of daily prayer.” 

“ With no rules and formalities, the whole struc- 
ture of life would fall to pieces. Suppose a boy to 
be apprenticed by his father to learn a trade, and 


PRAYER. 


151 

instead of going daily to his task, he waits to feel 
like it, and idles about some other employment, 
waiting for an attraction to his duty? I think 
many of the difficulties attending the subject of 
prayer would disappear, if it could be regarded, in 
early life, as an art that must be acquired through 
daily, persistent habits, with which nothing shall be 
allowed to interfere. I wish to impress upon our 
young friends here that their Father means to have 
them learn this art, and will condescend to teach 
them Himself, if they will only respond to His 
design.” 

“ I have never been taught this. And I should 
be ashamed to confess how careless and fragment- 
ary and cold my prayers have been,” said Amplias. 

“ I have always been interested in the subject, 
and wanted instruction. It has always seemed to 
me that prayer might become a great luxury,” said 
Apelles. 

“ Never seek it as such. The great want of ihe 
human soul is Christ, not feelings about Christ.” 

“ Is not the yearning for happiness instinct ve 
and innocent ? ” 

“ It is instinctive, and within certain limits, in- 
nocent. But it loses its innocence the momen it 
begins to be the object of life. In its best ^nd 
noblest forms, happiness is never found when pur- 
sued. * 


152 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ But do not advanced Christians find great de- 
light in prayer ? ” asked Apelles, ever on the alert 
for pleasurable emotions. 

“ Certainly. But they have learned, what you 
must learn, to make little account of the varied 
emotive states in which they come to God. It 
is, no doubt, more agreeable to ascend to the 
mount of transfiguration, there to behold the shin- 
ing face of the Beloved, than to plough one’s way 
along the every-day pathway of duty ; but the ques- 
tion is not one of mere delight.” 

“ I supposed that if my prayer were dry and life- 
less, it was a sign that I ought to stop praying, and 
wait for a better frame.” 

“ Never do that. When one of your little broth- 
ers asks you to lend him } T our knife, do you inquire 
first what is the state of his mind ? And if you do, 
what reply can he make but this : ‘ The state of my 
mind is, I want your knife ? * ” 

“ I have heard persons speak of holding com- 
munion with God. What is that?” 

“ It is His Spirit responding harmoniously to our 
own.” 

“ I do not understand you.” 

“ Do you not sometimes find yourself doomed, 
for hours, to uncongenial society ? And can you 
look and talk and act like yourself, when you know 
you will be misunderstood?” 


PRAYER. I53 

“ No ; I can only act like myself when in con- 
genial society/’ 

“ Suppose, now, that you go to your closet, with 
low conceptions of God, in a temper so worldly as 
to be utterly uncongenial to Him, that He cannot 
respond to your careless prayer — you leave the 
throne of grace cheerless and unrefreshed. But 
suppose you have been studying His character and 
that of His Son, till it looks beautiful in your eyes, 
and you go to Him to tell Him so, and reverently 
to ask Him to form you into His likeness — you 
want just what He wants — to a degree you are 
congenial to Him, and He can act like Himself ; 
and when He does that, He gives you the sweet 
consciousness of His presence and blessing ; — that 
is called communion with Him.” 

“ Does not this tend to self-exaltation ? ” 

“ No. Each new favor shown it by God, humbles 
the believing soul. It knows its unworthiness, and 
is astonished at the leniency and kindness with 
which it has been treated.” 

“ I never had any experience of communion with 
God, if I understand you. Probably no young per- 
son has.” 

“ In the times of President Edwards, record was 
made of a child of four years, I think, who, after 
seeking God in prayer, complained: ‘God won’t 
come to me ; I call Him, and He won’t come to 
7 * 


154 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


me.’ A little time after, she came from her room, 
joyfully exclaiming : ‘ Mother, God has come ; He 
comes to me now when I pray to Him ! ’ ” 

“ Of course she died ? ” 

“ Died young, you mean ? She did not. She 
reached the age of sixty years, and ever retained 
wonderful power in prayer.” 

“ ‘ Out of the mouths of babes and sucklings Thou 
hast perfected praise ! ’ ” said Apelles. “ I am put 
to the blush by a child of four years ! ” 

“ But do not be discouraged. Rejoice that you 
are not thoughtless on this subject. And let me 
assure you that, when you have learned to pray, 
you have entered, as it were, the land where the 
Tree of Life stands, laden with foliage and with 
fruit, that shall not only refresh and strengthen 
and nourish your own soul, but every soul you 
love. No man liveth to himself, or runs his race 
alone.” * 

“ Go on, go on ; tell us all you know.” 

“ I would fain have you learn, from the direct 
teachings of the Spirit, far more than I know. I 
can give you no new, original thoughts on the 
subject, but I earnestly desire to impress you with 
familiar ones.” 

“ We are, probably, more ignorant and less 
prayerful than you are aware. Cannot you give 
us some directions? You spoke of prayer as an 


PRAYER. 155 

apprenticeship, but I have heard you call it the 
gift of God.” 

“And it is truly His gift. You can go to your 
closet and utter devout language there, but really 
to pray, you must have thoughts and desires in 
spired by the Spirit.” 

“Are we to seek temporal as well as spiritual 
gifts ? ” asked Amplias. 

“ 1 In everything, by prayer and supplication with 
thanksgiving, let your requests be made known 
unto God.’ But temporal blessings should occupy 
little of our thoughts. ‘ I count all things but loss 
for the excellency of the *knowledge of Christ 
Jesus, my Lord : for whom I have suffered the 
loss of all things, and do count them but dung, 
that I may win Christ.’ Pray, too, expecting to be 
heard ; yet in submission, and in patience.” 

“ I have a brother, who is an unbeliever. I have 
often wished to speak of him to you. I have 
prayed for him again and again, to no purpose.” 

“ You never can know it is to no purpose till the 
last day.” 

“ I am so discouraged that I have left off pray- 
ing.” 

“ Dc you not know that we must not be im 
patient when we are kept waiting?” 

“ I was going to ask you to join me in praying 
that lie might be brought in this year.” 


.56 urban£ and his friends. 

“ I dare not limit God as to time ; He only 
know s when and how to accede to our requests. 
He has a right to try our faith through years, if 
He pleases.” 

“ Prayer has never been anything to me but a 
task. How can I help it ? ” was asked. 

“ By patient, habitual persistence in it ; by seek- 
ing the aid of the Spirit, and in inflexibly securing 
time for it. There must be meditation as well as 
prayer ; you must reflect on your own wants and 
the wants of others.” 

“ I should think it almost an insult to pray for 
others.” 

“ An insult ? ” 

“ Yes ; with such poor praying as mine.” 

“ Is there any good praying done ? ” 

“ Is there not the ‘ effectual, fervent prayer of the 
righteous, that availeth much ? ’ ” 

“ ‘A lover of righteousness thou art ; then thou 
art one of the righteous. If still thine own right- 
eousness be in thine eye, it may and should be so 
to humble thee ; but if it should scare thee from 
coming unto God, and offering thy suits with this 
persuasion, that His ear is open , . . . creep in under 
the robe of His Son, and offer it there.’ ” 

“ You do not know how little time business men 
have for contemplative piety, nor how hard it is to 
escape a cold, worldl} 7 temper.” 


PRAYER. 


157 


“ Perhaps not. But Luther once said, when a 
hard day’s work lay before him, that he must pray 
twice as much as usual on account of it. Time 
spent in seeking for success in lawful occupation 
and enterprise, is far from lost time ; time spent in 
praise is not lost time. And he who wants to lead 
a happy, holy, useful life, can only do it on one 
condition, the condition of daily communion with 
Christ.” 

“ Daily communion! Oh, does any man ever at- 
tain to that ? ” cried Apelles, eagerly. 

“ We read of having ‘fellowship with the Father 
and with His Son, Jesus Christ;’ we read also of 
the ‘communion of the Holy Ghost.’ I suppose 
the latter phrase refers to the Spirit as the medium 
of the communion and fellowship between God 
and Christ and the human soul. Of spiritual 
strength and joy, this is the highest source.” 

“ And do you mean that it is attainable by such 
poor, half-way Christians, as we ? ” 

“Not while you are poor, and half-way; but 
when you become whole-hearted ones. When a 
man prays, and has no response, but feels as if he 
had been addressing the ceiling of his room, not a 
personal, listening Christ, he may be sure that he is 
not in perfect spiritual health. For our Lord is 
always ‘waiting to be gracious.’” 

“I have heard older Christians speak of having 


r,3 URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 

great burdens of prayer for souls. Is it a bad sign 
not to know what that means?” 

“ Not necessarily. The Spirit inspires all prayer 
and is not wont to lay these burdens on young 
shoulders. Your time may come; I hope it will.” 

“ You hope so? Hope I may be burdened ? ” 

“ Yes, with our dear Lord’s burden. It is a 
wondrous grace to be permitted to have fellowship 
with Christ in the burden He is carrying.” 

“ Then ‘ fellowship ’ is not a merely contempla- 
tive grace, confined to the closet?” 

“Ah, no ! The believer has a union to his Lord 
far more real and personal, than that of the closet ; 
to you, in your youth, it may look repelling. But I 
do not propose to conceal from you that there is, 
for most of Christ’s followers, ‘ fellowship with His 
sufferings.’ Do not let this alarm you. At the 
longest, life is short ; at the worst, it cannot harm 
His beloved ones, but will help to make sweeter 
the bread you are going to eat with Him in His 
Father’s kingdom, and the rest you are going to 
take with Him in one of His many mansions! ” 

“ My great difficulty is in finding God real,” said 
Amplias. 

“ Well, tell Him so. He is real, and knows how tc 
reveal Himself.” 

“ And am I to fancy that God will alter any of 
His plans for my asking?” 




PRAYER. 


159 


“ By\io means. He took every one of your pray- 
ers into account when He formed His plans for you. 
Coleridge speaks of the act of praying as the very 
nighest energy of which the human heart is capa- 
ble — praying, that is, with the total concentration 
of the faculties ; and the great mass of worldly 
men and learned men, he pronounced absolutely 
incapable of prayer. And shortly before his death, 
he said to his son-in-law, as we are told by him : 
* 1 do not find or reckon, the most solemn faith in 
God as a real object, the most difficult act of the 
reason and the will : Oh, no ! my dear ; it is to pray , 
to pray as God would have us — that is what at 
times makes me turn cold to my soul. Believe me, 
to pray with all your heart and strength, with the 
reason and will ; to believe vividly that God will 
listen to your voice, through Christ, and verily do 
the thing he pleaseth thereupon — this is the last, 
the greatest achievement of the Christian’s warfare 
on earth. Teach us to pray, O, Lord ! ’ And he 
burst into a flood of tears, and begged me to pray 
for him. Oh, what a sight was there ! And ‘ no 
prayer is lost,’ said Bickersteth, 1 they are lasting 
and living. It is a wonderful thought— no prayer is 
lost , they live forever ; they are, as it were, indented 
round the throne of God, and when God looks 
around, He sees the prayers of His saints covered 
with the sweet incense of the Saviour’s merits.’ ” 


I bo URBANE and his friends. 

“ You do not represent the Christian life as an 
easy thing, 5 ’ said Apelles. 

u I want to represent it exactly as it is found in 
the Word of God. We are there told that * with 
j«y shall ye draw water out of the wells of salva- 
tion.’ But these wells are deep. I want you to 
quit you as men, to be strong. I want to see you 
rich in faith, fervent in love, watchful unto prayer. 
You can fling yourselves down, if you please, by 
the shallow pools of life, and lap up of their muddy 
waters, and go away thirsty. But I beseech you 
never to do it. 1 entreat you, if you have not yet 
formed the habit of prayer, to begin it to-day. Go 
to God expecting to find Him. Refuse to let Him 
go except He bless you. I cannot speak strongly 
enough on this subject.” 

“ Do you think that, young and inexperienced as 
we are, we should make much of intercessory pray- 
er?” asked Amplias. 

“ I would have you pray as the Spirit gives you 
utterance. And I have another suggestion to 
make. There is a special promise to social prayer — 
to ‘two or three.’ Remember that. It was when 
our Lord was praying that He received His bap- 
tism. It was when the apostles were praying that 
the Pentecostal blessing came down. Christ began 
his public ministry by prayer, and closed it by 
prayer. What an unanswerable argument against 


PRAYER. 


l6l 

the worldly question, ‘What mean ye, that ye 
pray ? ’ ” 

“You have spoken of an ‘inflexible habit of 
prayer,”’ said Claudia. May not some of these 
tender young consciences become painfully scru- 
pulous in consequence? I know you do not mean 
that there will not be occasions in life, when the re- 
tirement of the closet will be impossible, or, if not 
impossible, selfishly appropriated.” 

“ I thank you for the suggestion, and endorse it. 
But remember, dear young friends, we make it to 
tender, scrupulous consciences ; not to the cold, the 
worldly, the idler, who are on the alert for excuses 
to neglect duty.” 

“ And, as you have been so reserved and cautious 
in speaking of prayer as a delight, may I not say to 
these young persons,” continued Claudia, “that 
you pray, that I pray, not as a duty, but as one of 
our high privileges ; a privilege we would not lose 
for all the honors and pleasures of life?” 

“ Say anything you please,” returned Urban6, 
“and when you have told the story in vivid lan- 
guage, you know you have not told it, A soul that 
has felt the elevation of communion with God, will 
never be satisfied with lesser objects; every day it 
will thus obtain more of the mind of Christ, and 
change into His image from glory to glory ! ’ ” 

“ I want to make another criticism,” said Philolo- 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


162 

gus. “ You have barely alluded to intercessory or 
to ejaculatory prayer.” 

“ One short evening cannot do justice to the sub 
jects under consideration. I can but hint at 
thoughts. I would lay great stress on intercessory 
prayer when it is given ; great stress.” 

“ Is \ given ? * ” asked Apelles. 

“Yes. Prayer is the gift of the Spirit. And the 
Spirit only knows what we should pray for. And 
as to ejaculatory prayer, I believe it to be the in- 
stinctive breathing of the sanctified soul, and needs 
no more to be taught as a doctrine, than a smile, a 
sigh, a glance into friendly eyes, should be taught. 
It is carrying a little corner of one’s closet into the 
promenade, the public conveyance, the office, the 
workshop ; it is transmuting the stones on which 
we walk, into pavements of gold. It checks the 
harsh word and the unkindly deed ; it brings in- 
stant counsel at the unexpected instant of need, 
and in everything it gives thanks.” 

“ I have very little patience with enthusiasts,” 
one broke in, abruptly. “ If a man can cure one 
disease by prayer, why is he selfish enough to let 
all other diseases run their course ? ” 

“ Now, is that quite fair? If it is, may it not be 
said, If one soul can be saved by my prayers, all 
souls can, and I’ll convert the whole world at a 
blow?” asked Urbane. 


PRAYER. 163 

“ Well, why not? I know there are people who 
maintain that every true prayer is answered.” 

“ Is it not? ” 

“ Of course not. I have offered hundreds of 
prayers that were not answered.” 

“ So have I,” said Apelles. 

“ Everybody has,” said Amplias. 

“ Pardon me if I deny that. True prayer is dic- 
tated by the Spirit, and the Spirit does not mock 
us by stirring us up to fruitless petition.” 

“Well, now,” said Apelles, “there once lay be- 
fore me two paths, and I did not know which to 
choose. I prayed for direction, and followed what 
I believed to be the Lord’s choice. But it led to 
defeat and shame.” 

“ This proves nothing. Our Lord reserves to 
Himself the right to answer our prayers in His 
own time and way. Now, first as to time. , Must 
He instantly respond to our childish ignorance and 
impatience ? Is our faith to be put to no test ? ” 

“ But there is a promise to two who agree upon 
anything, that it shall be given them. A young 
friend of mine, in circumstances of great tempta- 
tion, asked me to join him in asking for deliver- j 
ance. It was a pressing case ; there was no time 
to lose ; but no answer came, and he is struggling 
in that temptation still.” 

“ May I ask if he is using all the means in his 


164 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

power to escape it ? Is he literally fleeing from 
it?” 

“ No ; I can’t say that he is.” 

“ ‘ If I regard iniquity in my heart, the Lord wiR 
not hear me/ God cannot listen to a prayer that i 
not accompanied by a spirit of submission and 
obedience.” 

“ Take another case then. A mother lay upon 
her sick-bed, her helpless little children about her. 
Her husband besought the Lord to restore her 
health ; but He not only did not restore her health, 
but took her to Himself.” 

“Are you sure that this was a mistake on the 
part of our Lord ? ” 

“ I am not prepared to say that. But it was a 
most mysterious event. She was such a rare 
woman, and so needed in her family.” 

“No doubt. But if it had been best for her to 
stay, she would have been made to stay. We are 
fallible, human beings, and having prayed according 
to what light We have, must leave events to God. 
Would you take the responsibility of restoring 
that mother to her household ? ” 

“ N — o. But I want to know what has become 
of her husband’s earnest prayers ! ” 

“ They are laid up in an immortal memory, and 
in some form, will be answered. Their intent was 
for the best good of that household, and their spirit 


PRAYER. 165 

will meet with a response, though they were not 
answered to the letter.” 

On their way home, Antiochus said to Claudia, 
“ Why did Urbane use such reticence on the sub- 
ject of intercessory prayer? ” 

“ Because he was addressing young persons 
chiefly, and their time for this sort of work has 
not fully come. 1 know that prayer for the coming 
of Christ’s kingdom, and for the salvation and 
sanctification of souls, is his almost exclusive busi- 
ness in his closet, while he knows that you and 
your brethren have errands there on your own ac- 
count, which, for the present, must occupy most of 
your time. You will pass into higher and purer re 
gions, when you will forget and lose self in Christ.’* 

“ Do you expect that in me ? ” 

“ Yes, I do, confidently.” 

“ That means that you are praying for me, 
mother ; and I thank you for it.” 

She turned her bright face to him with a smile, 
and said, “ Do you know what a wonderful, won- 
derful thing it is for a human being to be permitted 
to speak to God, and what that speech of ours wins ? 

4 Bubbles we earn with our whole soul’s tasking ; 

'Tis only God that is given away ; 

Tis only heaven may be had for the asking.’ ” 

“ Those lines hold a great thought,” he replied, 
“and this evening has not been lost upon me.” 



CHAPTER XIII. 

OBEDIENCE. 

HERE are two forms of obedience of 
which I want to speak to-night,” said 
Urbane. “ One is obedience of the life, 
the other that of the heart.” 

“ External presupposes internal obedience,” said 
Philologus. 

“ It does. One is receiving, the other doing 
God’s will. And faith in Him is the only con- 
dition in which true obedience can be exercised.” 

6 ‘ I do not quite see that,” objected Apelles. “ It 
may be my lot to have to part with something I 
greatly value. God is stronger than I am, and He 
can come and take it. I have to submit, because I 
cannot help myself.” 

“ That may be mere dogged, sullen submission,” 
returned Urbane ; “ but a stoic and a heathen may 
render that. I refer to Christian obedience. Take 

the case of Abraham. Aftei* promising to bless all 
0 66 ) 



OBEDIENCE. 


167 


nations through him, God, arbitrarily, as far as the 
human eye could see, directed him to slay his 
son — his only son — the son he loved. Abraham 
not only prepared to do it, ‘ but rose up early ’ for 
the purpose. And faith alone enabled him to obey. 
‘ He believed God, and it was accounted unto him 
for righteousness.’ It has been remarked, by some 
German author, that every one, in the course of 
his life, is called upon, like Abraham, to sacrifice 
his Isaac. Every one, then, if this is true, has an 
opportunity to learn what sort of faith and obe- 
dience he possesses.” 

“And learns it to his shame,” said Amplias, with 
some bitterness. 

“ Not always,” said Urban6, gently. 

“Are there instances, at the present day,” asked 
Apelles, “ of such unquestioning obedience as that 
of Abraham ? ” 

“ There are. But they ought to be more numer- 
ous God is constantly coming to His children, 
and laying His hand on this, that, and the other 
object with which they are reluctant to part 
Now comes the query which they love best, the 
cheri ,hed : bject, or the will of God ! There are 
many painful instances of struggle and rebellion, 
but there are also many instances of patient sub- 
mission. Some one has said, ‘ Be not induced to 
give assent to that exaggerated boast, that, if the 


1 68 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


lifting of a straw could bring the beloved one back, 
we would not lift it. Some poor mourners have 
not the moral courage to contradict this, lest they 
should be thought wicked. But far from subscrib- 
ing to such overstrained professions, we know, in 
our heart, at this period of our suffering, that if 
lifting a house could restore them to us, we would 
strain every nerve to do it.’ Now, I have no wish 
to make any unkind criticism on this genuine cry 
of a bereaved soul ; but I must protest against its 
general truth. I have seen too much ready sub- 
mission to the divine will, in times of sorest be- 
reavement, to subscribe to such statements. Every- 
thing depends on the state in which tribulation 
overtakes one. Christ became obedient to the 
death of the cross ; He asks from us no such sac- 
rifice ; all He asks is a faith that shall trust Him in 
the darkness of night, as perfectly as in the bright- 
ness of noon-day.’’ 

“ But does He always make the path of duty 
plain?” asked Hermes. 

“ He makes it plain, if we will let Him do so. 
But how few of us come to Him without passion, 
without prejudice, without pride, in simplicity and 
godly sincerity, and ask for direction, expecting to 
receive it.” 

“ I would be guided as a child, 

And told just where to go, ” 


OBEDIENCE. 1 69 

said Claudia. “I believe,” she added, “I mis- 
quote, but the sentiment is very sweet.” 

“ Well, I have asked for direction many times,” 
said Apelles, “ and it has generally turned out that 
I did not get it. Can yon suggest a reason ? ” 

“Yes; half a dozen reasons. We often go to 
God for an expression of His will, and He gives 
the expression ; but we are so taken up with our 
own wishes and plans, are so willful in our fancied 
submission, that we misunderstand Him. He rarely 
speaks to us in tones of thunder; His is the ‘still, 
small voice.’ After making our petition, we should 
‘ keep silence before Him ; ’ the voice of passion 
must cease, or we cannot, amid its tumult, ‘ hear 
what God the Lord would say.’ ” 

“ Yes,” said Claudia, “ in the moment of clam 
orous entreaty, sometimes, 

The music of Thy soft, low voice. 

We are too deaf to hear.” 

“ I think I have always expected the voice of 
thunder,” said Apelles. 

“You must not expect to know all the Master’s 
mind as soon as you enter His house,” said Ur- 
bane. “An old servant who has lived under His 
roof thirty, forty, fifty years, ought to know His 
will far better than one who has served there five 
or ten. I once knew a man and woman who had 
8 


170 URBAN*: AND HIS FRIENDS. 

had what the world calls a hard time, passing from 
trial to trial, sorrow to sorrow, with hardly any 
breathing-time. At last a new trial confronted 
them, and I looked to see their faith falter ; but 
the husband turned to' the wife, and said, with a 
smile , ‘Well, we put our heads into the harness 
the moment the Master takes it down ; ’ and so 
they encountered His will together, weary as they 
were with much service and a long road.” 

“ It all sounds plausible and easy, while you are 
representing it as such,” began Apelles. 

“ Pardon the interruption,” said Urban6 ; “ but 1 
never allow myself to gloss over, or present in 
false colors, any of the painful sides of life. I do 
not pretend that an habitual spirit of obedience, 
leading to habitual, active obedience, is easy. On 
the contrary, it is another of those apprenticeships 
which, like the habit of pra}^er, is learned slowly 
and with difficulty. The strength of the human will 
is gigantic. And so is its presumption. It is bent 
upon managing its own affairs, if it can. Hardly 
a day passes when I do not hear murmuring and 
disputing against the Divine will that cuts me to 
the heart.” 

“ But if we are to part with our wills,” said 
Amplias, “ what is to prevent our becoming in- 
sipid on the one hand, and stoical on the other?” 

“We are not to part with our wills, for in doing 


OBEDIENCE. 


171 

so we could only render a negative obedience. 
We are to bend, not lose them. Neither are we 
to become stoical. We must suffer God’s will as 
well as do it. He does not want to make slaves 
of us, but dear children, entering into His plans, 
cheerfully accepting what each hour brings : ‘ will- 
ing in the day of His power.’ ” 

“ It takes a long time to learn the true liberty of 
the sons of God,” said Claudia. “ But Paul knew 
all about it, when he said that, 6 having nothing, he 
possessed all things.’ ” 

“ Did he mean that things owned by others, 
things of beauty, and the like, were virtually his? ” 
asked a youthful voice. 

“ Oh, no ! His thought went far deeper. He 
meant that he who possesses absolutely nothing 
but Christ, in Him possesses absolutely all things. 
This is obviously his meaning who could say, ‘ I 
count all things but loss, that I may win Christ.* 
This is the cry of the sufferer, but it is the song of 
the victor, to which I have already alluded.” 

“And do you expect, do you wish us, to * suffer 
he loss of all things?’ ” asked Apelles. 

“ I wish and expect nothing for you but that you 
may be found in Christ, not having your own 
righteousness, but that which is through the faith 
of Christ. I cannot choose your paths in life, nor 
should I dare to do it. Nor do I wish any good 


1 72 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

thing to be withheld or ruthlessly snatched from 
you. But this I know: that if you will trust your 
present and your future to His hands, consenting 
to let Him smite you when it shall be a kindness, 
to defeat your plans when they are wrong, to take 
you up, to set you down, to act for you in your 
own stead, 4 all things shall work together for your 
good/ ” 

“ I am like a cautious horse,” said Apelles. “ When 
I approach a bridge, I want to try it with one foot, 
before I venture my whole weight upon it.” 

“ ‘ Be not as the horse, or as the mule, which 
have no understanding/ ” Philologus hastened to 
quote. 

“ You want to walk by sight,” said Urban6, “ but 
you cannot do it. And while you are trying bridges 
over which multitudes have passed in safety, you 
are losing time and strength, and not progressing. 
I long to see you bearing your whole weight on 
this bridge of faith, crossing over it, and coming 
to the other side. I am truly and * affectionately 
desirous of you/ ” 

“And suppose I do cross it,” asked Apelles, visibly 
touched by tones that said far more than words had 
done, “ what shall I find on the other side ? ” 

“ Faith and obedience shall find Christ,” said Ur- 
ban6, with conviction. 

“ But if we give ourselves away to Him, there 


OBEDIENCE. 1 73 

is no knowing what He will do with us,” whispered 
a trembling voice. 

“ I wish I could convince you all how hard it is 
to kick against the pricks ! ” said Urbane. “ I wish 
I could give each of you a good long draught out 
of the sweet cup of submission ! Christ cannot 
abide in a heart that shuns and resists His work 
in it ; and He loves so to dwell in one that opens 
its doors wide, asks Him to come in, and take any- 
thing, everything He pleases.” 

“ It is hard for us, in our youth and inexperience, 
to realize the truth of all you say,” said Amplias. 
“ I am afraid I should rebel if some things in which 
I greatly delight were taken from me.” 

“ Try, at least, to obtain a different temper. To 
be happy, to be useful, you must be one in will with 
God. There is such a thing as learning ‘ not to be 
afraid of evil tidings.’ There is a love which uses 
no exaggerated language when it says : 

I worship Thee, sweet will of God ! 

This is not mere blind submission ; it is the joyful 
song of a faith that is mounting up ‘on wings, as 
eagles,’ and is not so much a victim as a victor.” 

“ But how is one to obtain such victory of faith,” 
asked Apelles. 

“ It is no mushroom,” was the reply. “ Obedi- 
ence is not so much aff act as a habit of the soul. 


174 


URBANE AND IIIS FRIENDS. 


The faithful servant is always on the watch, first to 
know, then to do, his master’s will. Now, the 
events of life are not accidents. They are the un- 
folding of Providential plans. Every moment comes 
as God’s messenger, and says: ‘ Do this’ — ‘Avoid 
that.’ ” 

“Are you not holding up a superhuman stand- 
ard ? ” asked Apelles. “ I am not asking in a spirit 
of criticism ; I honestly desire to know the whole 
truth.” 

“ Let us look at Paul, at the very instant of his 
conversion. His first word is, ‘ Lord, what wilt 
Thou have me to do?’ He is told that he is to 
suffer great things for Christ’s sake, but he enters 
courageously on a career of hardship and depriva- 
tion and painful endurance. Yet he declares that 
he bore in ‘ much patience afflictions, necessities, 
distresses, stripes, imprisonments, tumults, labors, 
fastings.’ Again, he says he was ‘ strengthened 
unto all patience and long-suffering, with jojTul- 
ness.’ Read the story of his life — me long list of his 
tribulations, how he was made the very ‘ off-scour- 
ing of the earth’ — and find, if you can, the feeblest 
expression of resistance or disobedience.” 

“ I think it quite important to examine and study 
a whole life, in order to appreciate the temper that 
runs through it,” said Philologus. “ The whole 
history of Christ on earth preaches submission. 


OBEDIENCE. 


175 


Then said I, Lo, I come: in the volume of the 
book it is written of me, I delight to do Thy will, 
O my God.’ And knowing full well the meaning 
of the words,* He taught us to make a spirit of 
obedience enter into our daily prayer: ‘After this 
manner pray ye — Thy will be done.’ ” 

“ I have not learned to say it,” said Apelles. 

“ Neither have I,” whispered a woman’s voice. 

“Let me plead with you, then,” said Urban6. 
“‘In Christ’s stead be ye reconciled to God.’” 

“ That language was addressed to the uncon- 
verted,” said Hermes. 

“True,” said Urban6, “but it is equally applica- 
ble to a partially sanctified will. I long for the 
day when the will of God shall be done on earth 
as it is in heaven.” 

“ Will there ever be such a time ? ” asked Hermes. 

“ Christ would not tell His disciples to ask for 
something He never meant to give. There will be 
such a time. And if we, who profess His name, 
were all living in the spirit of that prayer, this 
would be the set time for Christ’s coming. But 
aur opposition to His will, our faintness when we 
are rebuked of Him, our eagerness to seek our 
own ease and pleasure — in a word, our selfish 
humanity — keeps Him away. Put by the side of 
His glorious utterance, ‘ I delight to do Thy will, 
O Gcd,’ the cry with which man would rend 


1 76 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

the skies, if he darecl, ‘ I hate to do Thy will, 

0 God ! * ‘I hate to suffer Thy will, O Most 

High ! \ ‘ Nevertheless not as Thou wilt, but as 

1 will ! ’ If it is living to and for itself, loving its 
idols more than its God and Saviour, the human 
soul will behave in a very human way in the hour 
of trial. But if, on the contrary, it is living in a 
spirit of faith and submission, it acquiesces without 
a remonstrance. And this applies to the petty 
annoyances as well as the great emergencies of 
life. This is what I mean by obedience of the 
heart. And I want to urge it upon you, my 
friends. It gives me personal pain when I see 
the blessed and perfect will of God resisted. Noth- 
ing is gained by resisting it, for it will ride on and 
over us in spite of our puny struggles ; everything 
is gained by yielding.” 

“ Everything, save the one treasure we most 
desire to keep,” said Helvia. 

“ But does it become us to want to keep what 
our loving and wise Father wants to take ? Are 
we really fit to choose*our own lot in life ? Would 
you, if you might ? ” 

“ I never was put very sharply to the test but 
once,” replied Apelles, “ and then I certainly would 
have kept my Isaac, if I could.” 

“ Well, my dear young friend, I trust the time is 
coming when you will intrust y ourself fearlessly to 


OBEDIENCE. 1 77 

Christ, letting Hifn give or take, wound or heal, 
according to His own good pleasure.” 

“ I fear that time is very far off,” was the reply, 
made in a despondent voice. 

“ The fact that you come here so faithfully, week 
after week, leads me to take a more hopeful view 
of the case,” said Urbane. 

“ But are you not wearied out with our slowness, 
and dullness, and want of faith ? ” 

“ Not in the least. If it should be necessary, I 
could cheerfully spend a thousand and one even- 
ings in ministering to your individual soul. 1 can- 
not forget that I have been, myself, slow and dull 
and weak in faith, and that my dear Lord and 
Master bore with it.” 





CHAPTER XIV. 

CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 

ROM time to time Urbane received notes 
from young persons, who dared not speak 
at the weekly meeting, describing joyful 
experiences in prayer, and in the reading 
of the Word, and the like. His thoughtful brow 
contracted as he read them. He greatly dreaded 
excitement of feeling, or having too much stress 
laid on pleasant emotions. He wanted his young 
Christians to develop into a perfectly sound and 
healthful maturity, which should rather result in 
than be preceded by that delight which was now 
professed. Accordingly, he now spoke with un 
usual gravity and moderation, in this wise : 

“ I have spoken of faith working by love, or 
obedience of the heart. This evening, I announce 
a kindred topic, namely, obedience of the life, or 
good works. But before entering upon it, let 
me say that while I think I have given to peace 
(* 7 «) 



CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 


179 


joy. delightful revelations of Christ to the soul, all 
the prominence they can reasonably demand, I then 
wish also to add an earnest word of caution. It 
is natural that they who are favored with such 
spiritual delights should, in the proper time and 
way, speak of them. But remember that it does 
not follow that reporting Christ’s graces and favors 
is speaking of Him . And I should be glad to see 
self sink more and more out of sight, either as a 
mourner or as a rejoicer, and have your language 
testify rather what He is in Himself, independently 
of you, or anything He has done for or been to you. 
Read the epistle to the Ephesians, and see how 
Paul struggles with human language, in trying to 
describe the love of Christ, which * passeth knowl- 
edge ! ’ How unconsciously he betrays his own 
personal devotion when he prays that they may be 
‘ filled with all the fullness of God ! ’ His soul had 
been down into the depths of this fullness, or how 
could he have known what to ask for his brethren. 
Go forth, my friends, to preach Christ as Paul 
preached Him, out of a great deep of experience 
and heavenly knowing; declare humbly that you 
have been in heavenly places with Christ Jesus, 
but say little about the places, and much about 
Him. Thus only can you disarm carnality of its 
subtle weapons ; thus only can you decrease while 
He is increasing.” 


180 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

“ This,” said Hermes, “ sounds a little like a con- 
tradiction of remarks previously made/' 

“Yet it is only such in appearance,” replied 
Urban6, “and due to the fact that some quite 
young persons mistake certain ardors of emotion 
for genuine love to Christ, make professions not 
justified by their lives, and so dishonor Him. A 
little observation will convince you that a great 
deal of what is called religious conversation, is 
pious gossip ; now I would have you so filled with 
Christ as to run over , not in mere streams of talk, 
but in streams of benevolence. There is such a 
thing as a sound Christian life ; it is not all contem- 
plation and prayer ; it is not all muscle and sinew. 
It is a perfect, practicable union of the two. I be- 
lieve in your joyful emotions if they result in self- 
denying, patient work for Christ ; I believe in your 
work if it is winged by faith and prayer. You may 
assure me that you have not time to pray to Christ, 
because you have so much to do for Christ, and I 
warn you that He will soon come and try your 
work, of what sort it is, and condemn it. You may 
say you spend so much time in meditation and pray- 
er, that you have no time to do work of any sort ; 
then I must assure you that you are mere enthusi- 
asts, to whom Christ has not time to listen. Your 
frames and your feelings are empty bubbles, beau- 
tiful for a moment, to the eye, then gone for ever.’* 


CHRISTIAN SERVICE. l8l 

“ But are there not persons who are unfitted, by 
illness, by want of education, by their position in 
ife, perhaps even by constitutional traits, to show 
their faith by their works? ” asked Apelles. 

“ That is a timely question, and I reply, ‘ They also 
serve who only stand and wait.’ Now this waiting 
being enforced, as in illness, for instance, may be 
done in two ways ; in fretful impatience, or hum- 
ble content. But let me add, further, that when I 
speak of work for Christ, I do not mean mere 
active labor ; 

Who sweeps a room as for Thy laws. 

Makes that and th’ action fine ; 

But she who is not permitted to perform even such 
a trifling act for Him, may glorify Him by accept- 
ing His will when it sets her aside. The sick-room 
has ten thousand voices with which to praise Him, 
and I do not care how illiterate you are, nor how 
obscure the position you occupy, love Him with all 
your heart, and soul, and strength, and you will find 
ways in which to serve Him as frequent as the 
sands upon the sea-shore. Why, the ‘ soft answer 
that turns away wrath,’ is for Christ; the forgiven 
wrong is for Him ; the cup of cold water is His 
cup. How beautifully He has told us these truths 
in the twenty -fifth chapter of Matthew. Foreseeing 
how many of His lovers would never have great 


182 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


opportunities of doing specific work for Him, and 
knowing the eager craving there would be for ser- 
vice, He showed that what was done for the least 
of His brethren, was done for Him. This is one 
of His tender, loving forethoughts, about which I 
say, reverently, it is just like Him ! ” 

“ Do you think it the duty of everyone who is 
up and about in the world, to be striving to win 
souls?” asked Hermes. 

“ I think it their privilege,” was the reply. 

“ But some have no gift in that line. They repel 
where they would attract.” 

“ I cannot believe that one who breathes the lov- 
ing, winning spirit of Christ, will repel. There is a 
great deal of work attempted in a cold, hard way, 
that comes to nought, because it has no heart in it. 
Speak to a man about his soul from a mere sense 
of duty , and his intuitions tell him that it is so, and 
he shrinks back ; but go to him from some spot 
where you have prayed for him, individually, for a 
year, or years, take him by the hand, and just tell 
him that fact; in nine cases out of ten, you will 
see tears, glisten in his eyes, and some out of these 
nine will tell you they have been longing for this 
Christian word.” 

“ I have done very little of such work as this,” 
said Apelles. “ Consciousness of my own human 
infirmities has sealed my lips.” 


CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 


183 


“This is an argument in favor of my urgent de- 
sire to see my church filled with holy men and 
women. ‘Be ye clean who bear the vessels of the 
Lord.’ One who is not ‘purged from an evil con- 
science,’ will hardly dare to do anything for his 
Master.” 

“ But is not much harm done,” asked Hermes, 
“ by inexperienced, crude Christians, who rush 
heedlessly into the sanctuaries of human souls ? ” 

“Undoubtedly. Therefore, I want to rid my 
church of crudity and inexperience,” replied Ur- 
bane, with a smile. 

“ I have sometimes thought it would be well to 
explain why you devote so much time to instructing 
and building up young Christians. Of course I 
understand it, but many do not,” said Claudia. 

“ I have often wondered, that as you considered 
us regenerate and so sure of heaven, you did not 
let us alone, and look after the impenitent,” said 
Apelles. 

“ So have I,” declared another. 

“ And so have I,” said a third. 

These disheartening remarks, which showed 
Urbane how little he was understood, gave him a 
moment’s uneasiness, but he put it by, and said, 
what he had said scores of times, “ I am trying to 
keep the glory of God before my eyes, and every 
soul that I can lead into the way of holiness, will 


1 84 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

glorify Him in his own person, and become the 
spiritual parent of other souls. But to convert a 
sinner to the cold, worldly, formal life of the aver- 
age professor, does God no honor ; on the contrary, 
he who accepts salvation for its own sake, and low- 
ers Christ into a celestial courier, will be a dead 
letter in His church, having a name to live to Him, 
while living only unto himself.” 

“ Holiness has always seemed to me to belong to 
those not immersed in business, and so free to 
spend their time as they pleased,” said Amplias. 

“ God requires nothing from you that you really 
have not time to do. It is as much your duty to 
be 1 diligent in business ’ as it is mine to be ‘ fervent 
in spirit.’ But why should we not be both diligent 
and fervent? It is what we are told to be.” 

“ Why, in the rush of business, a man forgets 
there is any God. He can’t help it. It is in the 
very nature of things.” 

“ There is another clause to the verse partially 
quoted, which will throw light on the question. 
‘ Serving the Lord.’ Now the difficulty with most 
men is this. They regard their secular work as 
one thing, their religious work another thing, and 
fancy that one wars against the other. But if your 
work is legitimate, necessary, then diligence, and 
fervor, and service form a harmonious trio ; in it 
all you may regard yourself as serving the Lord.” 


CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 


185 


“ This is so contrary to all my pre-conceived no- 
tions,” said Amplias, “ that I hardly know how to 
make any practical use of it.” 

“ But do you not see the beauty and dignity of 
giving your whole day to Christ, instead of merely 
giving Him brief fragments of it?” 

“ But my business is so secular, so absorbing ! It 
is not possible to be carrying it on while thinking 
every moment of Christ.” 

“ Granted. But with the results of your labor, 
you support your wife and children. To do 
this, ds it at all necessary to have their images 
always consciously present with you? You may 
absolutely forget them. But suppose some sudden 
calamity should sweep them all away, would not 
your zest in business die out? And would not this 
prove that you had been toiling, not for yourself, 
but for them ? ” 

“ Do you mean to say then that I am serving Christ 
in my vocation, as you are serving Him in yours? 
That going down town to make money is to be put 
on a level with specific work for souls? ” 

“I would not put the one on the same level'with 
the other, by any means. I consider my privilege 
to be greater than yours. But all mankind cannot 
be Christian teachers. There must be business men 
in every community. Now I see no reason why 
the quality of your work should not be as pure and 


1 80 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


true as mine. It would be a melancholy state of 
things, if the Master counted no men as His work- 
men, save those whose specific employment is of a 
religious character. The fact is that when He 
chose His disciples, Christ did not go into temples 
to find them in priests, or to altars to seek them 
among those who offered sacrifice or knelt as peni- 
tents there ; he took them from the ranks of those who 
were working all day and sometimes all night, in 
absorbing, weary labor; ‘they toiled in rowing;* 
He found Matthew at the receipt of custom ; and 
that He did not draw these men about him as mere 
devotees, is shown in the fact that after His death, 
some of them are spoken of as ‘ fishers,* with whose 
labors He had such sympathy, that even as the risen 
Christ, He condescended to instruct them where 
to cast in their net. Many a man whose life has be- 
come one long night of toil and failure, might be di- 
vinely taught where to cast in yet another venture, 
and draw to shore his hundred and fifty and three.” 

“ I am glad you are teaching us to shun morbid 
piety,” said Antiochus. “ But it is very hard to 
get a true conception of sound Christian life, after 
years of confusion and error. Yet I believe Christ 
can be carried to the workshop, the counting- 
room, the public arena, and glorified there. But 
this is a faith that has to struggle for life, because 
it is yet in its infancy.” 


CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 


187 

“When God created man,” said Urban6, “ He 
dicTnot sa j to him you are to spend your time in 
devout contemplation and prayer ; He put him 
into a garden, and told him to 4 dress and to keep 
it.’ Since that day, thousands of men have been 
engaged in similar occupation ; their labors are 
smiled upon and blessed by 4 the Lord of the har- 
vest.’ Now, what business can be more absorbing 
than that of the agriculturist? Yet, if he be one 
of the family of Christ, he must, in some way, feed 
upon Christ or starve. And if he carries Christ 
about with him, in the mystical union which may 
exist between our Lord as He dwells within the 
soul, and the soul itself, he need not traverse an 
inch of his territory alone, or envy his brother 
whose vocation is on spiritual, not earthly soil.” 

44 1 begin to grasp the idea that one may serve 
God in even "a secular calling,” said Amplias ; 
“ but I want instruction on the subject of Christian 
work. How much time should be devoted to it?” 

44 No general rule can be laid down,” replied 
Urban6. 44 How much owest thou to thy Lord?” 

4< 7 owe Him everything!” said Antiochus. 

“And so do we all!” Urban6 rejoined. “Now, 
the question I suppose to be this : not what is the 
very least I can do for Christ to pacify my con- 
science, but how much am I privileged to do for 
Him? And I reply: Just in proportion to your 


1 88 urban£ and his friends. 

love may be your service. If you love Him as I 
want you to do, you will offer Him the whole use 
of }^our day, as you open your eyes to the light of 
each morning, to be spent in active service or 
silent suffering, according to His good pleasure. 
You will not select the most agreeable task, but 
His task, whatever it may be; you will not disdain 
humble service, or be ambitious for distinguished 
service ; you will lie, like a straw, on the current 
of His will, to be swept away and be forgotten, if 
it pleases Him, or to be caught up by His mighty 
hand and transformed thereby into a thunder- 
bolt.” 

“ Have you any suggestions to make to us 
women ? ” asked Claudia. 

“ St. Paul has made most excellent ones,” was 
the reply. 

“ Some of the young girls present are eager for 
a vocation,’’ returned Claudia. 

CJrbane cast his eye pleasantly upon an attentive, 
but silent, group of maidens, and said, earnestly : 

“ Woman’s vocation is to love. I charge you to 
love the Lord Jesus Christ with all your heart and 
soul and might and strength. Then you will be 
good daughters and sisters and wives and mothers; 
or if, in the order of life, }-ou have no such mission, 
trust your Beloved to find one for you. You have 
Iiis poor always with you, and His sick; you can 


CHRISTIAN SERVICE. 


189 


gain access to His sufferers every day, as no man 
can do ; Fie has His waifs drifting on the ocean of 
life ; His penitent, fallen ones ; His foundlings ; His 
very lonely ones.” • 

“ That’s beautiful work ! ” cried an enthusiastic 
voice ; “ but I owe Christ such a debt that I can’t 
rest satisfied with just that; I am not content to 
comfort people in trouble, though I love to do it, 
nor merely to visit the sick, though I mean to do 
much of that if I may ; but I want thousands of 
souls to love Christ through me ; yes, thou- 
sands ! ” 

Urbane took in the glowing yet earnest face in a 
quiet glance, but was, for some moments, silent. 
When he at last spoke, it was with a struggle to 
conquer his emotions : 

“ Have you counted the cost, my Helvia ? ” he 
asked. 

In a low voice came the steady reply : “ 1 
have ! ” 

“ Do you know how our Lord prepares the 
workmen who come to Him with such large 
desires ?” 

“ No; but I can imagine it is by baptismal fire.” 

“And are you prepared for that * ” 

“ No ; but Christ can prepare me.” 

Urbane looked once more at the firm, unflinch- 
ing face ; he silently took the measure of this girl, 


I90 URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 

whose very genius it was to live for Christ, if need 
be, to die for Him, and said, in a hoarse 
voice : 

“ So be it, my Father, for so it seems good in 
Thy sight ! My child, you will have your thou- 
sands.” 

In these words he gave up all he had to his Lord 
Of his household, this one daughter remained to 
him, and she was going to undertake a battle for 
souls. He could foresee, as she could not, through 
what training-schools she would have to pass be- 
fore she could be ready for her life-work ; into 
what furnaces of fire she must be cast; what 
Satanic assaults she must meet ; into “ what weari- 
ness and painfulness,” what “ watchings oft,” what 
“ labors more abundant ” she must enter, and 
shrank back, yet pressed forward ! Yet no un- 
heard-of experience lay before the ardent girl. 
Thousands have “ come out of great tribulation,” 
whose history never arrested human observation, 
who never bore the name of martyrs, but who 
early offering themselves to Christ were silently 
accepted by Him, and in secret places, unknown 
to the world, had been “ taught in suffering ” what 
they were one day to “ teach in song.” Perhaps 
they are not shown, in this life, the countless souls 
they have lifted out of the dust or elevated above 
the ordinary plane of existence. But long before 


CHRISTIAN SERVICE 


I 9 I 

they go home to get their reward, “ there shall be 
no night ” in the celestial city of their souls * “ and 
they need no candle, neither light of the sun ; for 
the Lord God giveth them light, and they shall 
reign forever and ever." 









CHAPTER XV. 

URBANE AND ANTIOCHUS. 



AM so interested,” said Antiochus, 
“ in the subjects you have been dis- 
cussing, that I have come to say some 
things to you privately, that it is im- 
possible to say in the presence of others. Am I 
intruding ?” 

“ Not at all. I am delighted to see you.” 

“You know I am immersed in business, and 
hardly have time to think. I have been prospered 
in every way, however, and suppose I appear, to 
the casual looker-on, to be a happy man. But, in 
the strictest sense, I am not. My conscience is not 
at rest. On Sundays, when I have time for reflec- 
tion, I spend weary hours in reviewing the week, 
and repenting the race 1 have been running ; or, 
perhaps, I should say lamenting ; perhaps I do not 
really repent.” 

“ Repentance glorifies God ; mere lamentation 

(192) 


URBANS AND ANTTOCHUS. 


193 


mocks Him. May I ask if you have any misgiv- 
ings as to your state before Him ? Any doubt 
that you are His child ? ” 

“Well, I suppose I am a Christian.’' 

“ Do you not know that you are ? ” 

“ To tell the truth, I often have my doubts on 
the subject. Still, I suppose I am as good as the 
average Christian of the day.” 

“ This is not a question of goodness. Nor is the 
average Christian to be your standard. Christ is 
the standard, and faith the only witness, through 
the Spirit, that you are in Him.” 

“ If I am never to have a hope of salvation till I 
get it through evidence that I am exactly like 
Christ, then I shall have to live without it. I am 
un-Christ-like to an awful degree.” 

“ Do you not remember when Christian became 
satisfied, by looking at his robe and examining his 
roll, that he was in a state of grace, he fell into a 
state of carnal security that led to the loss of his 
evidences ? ” 

“ What is one to do, then ? ” 

“ Rely upon no past experiences or present 
gracious signs within yourself. All these may be 
counterfeits of truth. Fix your eye upon Christ; 
believe that He has provided a way of salvation 
for you, and accept His salvation as freely as He 
offers it.” 


9 


194 urban£ and his friends. 

“ But am I not to examine myself to know 
whether I am in the faith ?” 

“ 1 would not have you careless and thoughtless 
as to your relation to Christ; but, on the other 
hand, I would charge you to look at yourself as 
rarely as possible. Your search will never be 
rewarded by the discovery of a single virtue.” 

“ What ! Not if I become a saint ?’’ 

“ What is a saint ? ” asked Urbane with a smile. 

“A very good and holy person.” 

“ Well, now, here are two persons. One of them 
says he is very ‘ good,’ in the sense in which you 
use the word, if I understand you. He thanks 
God that he is better than other men — better, espe- 
cially, than one standing by his side, and who is 
smiting upon his breast, and asking for mercy in 
the lowliest attitude. Now, I want to impress one 
thought upon you. True holiness does not see 
itself. It sees Christ, and is ever seeking Him. 
The more perfectly Christ lives in a human soul, 
the more lowly will that soul become.” 

“ But I thought some self-righteous people ” — 

“ Oh ! we have nothing to do with mere self- 
righteousness. We have just looked at it in the 
Pharisee, and that glance is enough. I believe 
that holiness is to be the quest of every redeemed 
soul, and that there have been, and are now, saints 
upon earth, of whom the world was not, is not 


URBANE AND ANTIOCHUS. 1 95 

worthy. But this means departure out of self into 
Christ.” 

“ But I have read about the shouts of two or 
three men on their death-beds.” 

“ Yes, shouts of joy as Christ was revealed to 
them in a new light ; nothing more, nothing less. 
I wish I could so depict Him to you to-night, as to 
make you henceforth a wholly consecrated man.” 

“ That word ‘ consecrated ’ repels me a little. A 
young man in the prime of life naturally appreci- 
ates and clings to his innocent pleasures ; and the 
thought of giving up everything — well — I have put 
my hand to the plough several times and looked 
back.” 

“ My dear young friend, do you mean that you 
have several times had an inward call to a holy 
4 ife?” asked Urbane, very earnestly. 

‘ Yes.” 

‘And what was the occasion ?” 

“The first time it was the death of a favorite 
brother. I loved him as my own soul, and for a 
time lost all interest in earthly pursuits, and sought 
refuge in religion. But it did not yield me much 
satisfaction, and as my sorrow wore off, I lost what 
little fervor I had had. The next time there was 
no occasion whatever. I was prospering in my 
professional life, enjoyed excellent health, and had 
a pleasant home. But I was not satisfied; notthor 


I96 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

(Highly happy. I had been too religiously educated 
not to feel that a man is born for something better 
than merely making money. That was the time 
when, as you may remember, I became interested in 
our Mission. I had yet a third impression as un- 
accountable as the second. And now I have yet 
another, but I know not whence it comes.” 

“ Let me tell you then, that four times in your 
history, God has called you, by His Providence, 
and His Spirit, to come nearer to Him. Thrice you 
have resisted this appeal and grieved Him away. 
If you resist Him now, He may never return ; there 
is a last grievance which forever silences His voice.” 

“ Do you mean that I shall lose my soul? ” 

“ I do not. If you have ever so little saving 
faith, you may yet get to heaven. But can you 
bear to think' of being so mean as to accept Christ’s 
sacrifice for you as your passport, and make no sac- 
rifice for Him in return?” 

“ You make me ashamed of myself.” 

“ I tell you, solemnly and tenderly, my brother, 
that you are called to holiness. I can interpret 
these inward monitions of the Spirit in no other 
way. And by holiness, I mean usefulness, happi- 
uess, everything the human sou\ can crave of what 
is highest, and purest, and best.’ 

“ All you say impresses me deeply. But you 
have no idea how worldly and cc ' T. am.” 


URBANE AND ANTIOCHUS. 


197 


“ I think I have. It is no peculiarity of yours. I 
see the same features in many other lives. Shall I 
add that I have been expecting this visit from 
you?” 

“ On what grounds?” 

“ I want my church to be full of holy, praying, 
working souls. And I am, in a great degree, respon- 
sible for the way in which I train my young Chris- 
tians, and this sense of responsibility drives me to 
my knees. For a year past you have been one of the 
objects of daily prayer. You are a thoughtful man ; 
you are, I believe, a renewed man ; but to do effi- 
cient work for Christ, you need a new experience.” 

“ And what is that ? ” 

“ It is a work of the Spirit, which I should prefer 
you should be taught by that Spirit.” 

“ Were you taught by the Spirit?” 

“ Yes.” 

“And how?” 

“ Through prayer. Your mind is in a state of con- 
fusion, and no human hand can restore it to order. 
I want you to wait upon God day and night till 
you find out what you need. Meanwhile, since he 
shall know of the doctrine, who does His will, live 
up to every particle of light you now possess. 

“ But let me put you on your guard on a point 
where you may err. There will be no virtue in 
your prayers that will entitle you to a blessing 


198 urban£ and his friends. 

There is a kind of praying that is nothing but 
mere legality. It is just as meritorious as for a 
beggar to ask alms in the street, or to offer his 
loathsome diseases for the inspection of passers-by. 
They may say, ‘ Why should we give to you?’ 
‘ Why,’ he replies, ‘ because I have indulged you 
with a very disagreeable sight, and assailed you 
with clamorous requests.’ ” 

“ You have often said that we must form habits 
of prayer ; but I never have. There is the rush to 
business in the morning, the pursuit of it all day; 
and when a man comes home at night, he wants to 
see his wife and children, and get his friends about 
him. You men of contemplative lives know noth- 
ing of our difficulties.” 

“ So you think you have more to do than I ? ” 

“ Of course I have.” 

“ Have you not a portion of each day that you 
call your own ? ” 

“ No, not of each day. But still, as a general 
rule, when I go home at night, my work is done.” 

“ Well, my work is never done. But we will 
not discuss my case, in particular. Let me call 
your attention to the life of William Wilberforce, 
when he was a member of Parliament, and literally 
overwhelmed by his political and philanthrophic 
labors. I do not know which is more striking : the 
amount of work he performed, or the spirituality 


URBANE AND ANTIOCHUS. 199 

with which he performed it. Now he owed this 
spirituality to prayer. If he could obtain time for it in 
no other way, he would rise hours before the world 
about him was awake, and study the word of God, 
and take counsel of Him on his knees. His piety 
was so rare in those days, that his friends feared he 
had lost his reason. But a lady, after observing 
his life, said, * If this be madness, let him bite us 
all.’ ” 

‘‘But I have always thought that persons who 
spent much time in devotion, unfitted themselves 
for active life.” 

“Listen to what our Lord said about prayer: 
‘ Enter into thy closet, and when thou hast shut 
thy door, pray to thy Father ; ’ now was He ad- 
dressing a few contemplative women or ‘ the multi- 
tude ? ’ Why, He was speaking to day laborers, to 
fishermen, to the ‘ common people ’ who were strug- 
gling with poverty ; to women who had all their 
household tasks to perform, their children to bear 
and rear. And He showed them what He meant 
oy the word ‘ closet,’ when He went to gardens, 
and mountain-tops, and desert places, in order to 
be alone with His Father. A praying heart will 
find a time and a place for devotion.” 

Let it not be thought that Urbane laid too much 
stress on the subject of prayer. During a pastorate 
of thirty years, he had learned on whom to depend 


200 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


as effective laborers in the vineyard of his Lord ; 
they were invariably men and women who took 
much habitual counsel of God. 

• Let us now follow Antiochus to his home, and 
see what passes there between himself and his wife. 

“ So here you are, at last ! I began to think you 
were going to spend the night,” cried Junia. 

“ I should have liked nothing better. Urbane 
was so cordial and affectionate.” 

“ What has he been saying? Is he going to make 
a saint of you ? ” 

“ It will take more than mortal man to do that.” 

“ For my part, I think you are a very good man 
as you are. I hope you are not going to live up to 
any new notions.” 

“ I believe I am going back to old ones.” 

“ Mother would be delighted if Urban6 could 
work upon me as he does upon you. But I do not 
see why people as young as you and I should be so 
very strict, and give up all our pleasures because 
old people do.” 

“ If you heard Urban6 talk, you would not think 
he wanted any unreasonable sacrifices.” 

“ It is quite enough to hear him preach on 
Sundays.” 

“ It is not enough for me. I mean, this time, to 
be in real earnest. I have tampered with divine 
things long enough.” 


urban£ and antiochus. 


201 


“ Well, you’ll never be perfect in this life, so don’t 
hope for it. A man with such a quick temper as 
yours, will have a temper to his dying day.” 

An angry retort was the instant reply, and for 
that night Antiochus felt himself defeated. But 
again and again the next day, Urban6’s exhorta- 
tions returned to him, and, in intervals of business, 
he felt himself moved in a way quite unusual to 
him. He contrasted his own barren, comfortless 
Christian life with Claudia’s cheerful and useful 
one ; her freedom from care with his incessant 
anxieties; and the contrast was not agreeable. He 
resolved to exchange his fitful, scanty, listless style 
of praying, for the habitual and earnest one, to 
which his conscience had long impelled him, but 
from which the tide of worldliness had long borne 
him. But this proved no easy task, and coming 
away, day after day, from comfortless attempts to 
approach a yet unreal God, he would have given 
up the contest, but that Urban6, ever and anon, 
dropped an encouraging word that sent him back 
to his closet. He had great faults of character 
which gave him increasing troubles, and the strug- 
gle against 'them almost always ended in defeat. 
He became more and mere dissatisfied with him- 
self, and longed for a nameless something, he knew 
not what, that should lead to a new life. And 
gradually he was taught this truth : You have ac« 
9 * 


202 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


cepted Christ as your Saviour from eternal death, 
but not as your Saviour from present sin. The 
.sword of the Spirit transfixed him then and there. 
He condensed his prayers into one petition which 
he urged upon his Lord with intense desire : “ I 

beseech Thee to reveal Thyself to my soul ! I be- 
seech Thee, show me Thy glory ! ” And He who 
dictated this determined cry, responded to it. 
Christ was manifested to his soul in a light that 
well-nigh overwhelmed him. He was filled with 
astonishment at his past blindness and unbelief, and 
at the beauty and strength of the character now re- 
vealed to him. From this moment he received the 
witness of the Spirit, and was tortured with doubts 
no more. The old life of sinning and repenting 
ceased. He was filled with joy that was unspeak 
able. When asked to explain his experience, he 
could only reply, “ I have seen the Lord.” Truths, 
hitherto obscure, were now made as plain as day- 
light, and work for Christ, hitherto too much per- 
formed as duty, became a delight. 

It may be asked, Was this man wholly sanctified 
at that epoch in his life ? 

He always took the ground that he was then put 
into new conditions for spiritual growth, nothing 
more. And being a mortal man, he had to learn 
his lessons of life like other men. But he was no 
longer in bondage to sin, and his conscience was 


urban£ and antiochus. 203 

comparatively at rest. He had his thorn in the flesh 
that kept down his pride ; he had his sorrows and 
trials ; he made his mistakes, and had to bear the 
consequences. But peace became the marked 
feature of his soul. And no outward event ever 
disturbed it. 



CHAPTER XVI. 

ANTIOCHUS. 

T may be asked what Antiochus gained 
at once in this new experience, and this 
is the reply : He gained a soul-satisfying 
view of Christ. He was for a long time 
so taken up with looking upon Christ, that the 
ordinary pursuits and pleasures incident to youth 
ceased to attract him, and as he looked, he began 
to change into His image. He gained full assur- 
ance of faith. Pie could thenceforth say, “ My 
Beloved is mine, and I am His.” Doubt was gone 
forever. He gained an access to God in prayer 
that made his closet the most delightful spot on 
earth. And, while this world never looked so 
lovely to him, the beauty of heaven won his heart ; 
to his mind that word meant Christ and holiness, 
and the more he possessed of these, the more he 
longed for them. His affections, hitherto reserved 
f;>r a very few, began to flow out in all directions ; 






ANTIOCHUS. 


205 


he sought the society of those who loved Christ, as 
most congenial and delightful, but he also sought 
out and labored and prayed for souls uncongenial, 
because worldly. 

His joy was 'joyousness personified. It grew 
first out of love to Christ, next out of assurance 
of faith ; it was increased by hours of communion 
with God, and deepened by freedom from bondage 
to sin, and a new conception of the usefulness which 
would now be in his power. 

As time passed, he found that, just in proportion 
to the degree of his faith in the risen and indwell- 
ing Christ, he was kept from sin, and while he was 
taught more and more how weak, infirm, help- 
less, sinful a thing is the heart of man, he was made 
to see all this set over against the strong, resolute, 
holy, loving heart of God. 

While all this was going on, Junia’s pride and 
self-will made her array herself against her hus- 
band, and she spoke to him as if Satan himself 
were prompting her to do -so, and after this wise : 

“ You say you have had a marvelous view of the 
love of Christ to your soul. I have asked several 
really good people if they know what you mean by 
this, and they say they do not.” 

“ But they can have it, and thus learn what is 
meant, if they will.” 

“ It is a momentary bit of enthusiasm. You will 


20b 


urban£ and his friends. 


soon come down from your*sublime heights. Why 
should you set yourself up to be better or more 
favored that the rest of us ? ” 

“Am I setting myself up ? ” 

“ Of course you are.” 

- How ? ” 

“ Why, by boasting that God has done something 
for you that He has not done for me, for instance.” 

“ Dear Junia, I am not boasting.” 

“You may not think so, but you are. And why 
should such special miracles be wrought for you, in 
particular ? ” 

“ Why, indeed ! I shall never cease wondering. 
After all my disobedience and ingratitude, I de- 
serve wrath, not love.” 

“Ah ! now you speak like a man in his senses. I 
supposed you thought you had only entered into 
your rights. Well, Urbane has got a good deal 
to answer for, if he alienates you from your wife, 
and that I shall tell him.” 

“ I never loved you so dearly in my life ; never.” 

“ You have been taking a strange way of show- 
ing it ; shutting yourself up instead of giving me 
your society, and then going to assemblies I hate, 
and into which I cannot accompany you.” 

“ I acknowledge that I have, for a time, shut my- 
self up. But it was in response to the invitation of 
the Holy Spirit. I dared not resist it. And now 


ANTIOCHUS. 


207 


I want you tc come and get the new view of Christ 
that has been given me. You will say, as I do, that 
you never knew what happiness meant before.” 

“ I was a proud and happy wife when you sud- 
denly broke loose from me and joined yourself to 
these fanatics. But now I am miserable, miserable ; 
and it is all your doing.” 

“ My dear child, these are no fanatics. You have 
always said you loved Urbane, and believed in him.” 

“ I loved him as long as he let us alone. I was 
willing to leave him to his notions as long as he 
would leave us to ours. And now I know he’ll 
never rest till you set up a prayer-meeting in our 
parlors, and go to telling your 1 experience,’ and 
having people here to tell theirs ; exactly what I 
can’t endure.” 

“ I shall do nothing of the sort, unless you your- 
self propose it. Dear Junia, why are you so bitter? 
I never saw anything of this sort in you before.” 

“ I can tell you another thing. If you set your- 
self up to be so very good, you ’ll have dreadful 
things happen to you. I shouldn’t wonder if every 
one of our children died. I have heard of such 
things. I have heard of four children lying dead 
at one time, in one house.” 

“ You are getting so excited that you do not 
know what you are saying. I ought not to argue 
with you on a subject you do not understand.” 


208 urbane and his friends. 

“ 1 d:> understand it. I saw a letter written by a 
man who said he had been trying to catch a fever, 
thinking it might be blessed to his soul. Oh, now 
you are laughing at me. It is true, I’ve seen the 
letter. And you will be wanting me to die, or to 
have something happen of the sort.” 

Antiochus looked troubled, but would defend 
himself no more. Junia returned to the attack 
whenever she got him alone, but had the argument 
all to herself. Then she changed her ground, and 
declared : 

“ This thing will not last.” 

“ Time alone can prove that. But Urban6 had 
an experience exactly like mine more than thirty 
years ago, and his peace has been abiding.” 

“ Urbane is not perfect, or infallible either.” 

“ Nobody knows that better than he does.” 

“ But he ought to be, if he started in such a 
marvelous way as you say you have.” 

“ He says so himself. But he also says ho never 
wants to reach a state in which he cannot say : 

* This is the hidden life I prize ; 

A life of penitential love.’ ” 

“ I like that. Can you say the same ? ” 

“Yes, dear Junia, I can. Wherever the very 
lowest place is, into that I want to creep.” 

“To creep? Why, I thought you were all the 
time on the wing ! ” 


ANTIOCHUS. 


209 


“ When I think of Christ, and of what He is, and 
what He has done, and is doing, I do feel on the 
wing of love and praise. But when I think of my- 
^self, I see nothing but human weakness and folly, 
and so the less I see of myself, the happier I am/’ 

“ But that is cowardly.” 

Antiochus smiled, with a fresh, bright smile, but 
made no other answer. Thus far Junia had not 
been able to irritate his hitherto passionate temper, 
and this was beginning to shake her confidence in 
her own position. She said every provoking thing 
she could think of, hoping to catch him, sometime, 
when off his guard. But weeks and months passed, 
and she had to own to herself that some mighty 
change had taken place in him which she did not 
understand. Could it be that he had not been 
renewed until now ? But that he had been a 
religious man from his youth up, she could not 
honestly deny. And the two who loved her best, 
who would not obtrude their experience upon 
her, went on praying for her in faith, in humble 
silence, their lives a reproach, but their lips utter- 
ing not even an exhortation. This, as has been 
remarked, had ever been the habit of Claudia, and 
she taught Antiochus to follow her wise example. 

And now that his temper had beconre so sub- 
dued and gentle, and his whole character so ele- 
vated and purified, Junia began to be tortured with 


210 


URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 


a new fear. He was going to die ! That was what 
it all meant ! She could see it as plainly as day- 
light; and so, in an agony of remorse, she told him. 
He replied, “ If this were so, Urbane and your 
mother ought to have died thirty years ago, and so 
should thousands of others. But the truth is, one 
gets preparation to live when he gets this clear 
view of Christ as his Saviour from sin. I hope to 
jive and preach Him for years to come.’' 

“ You are going to leave your business to preach 
Christ ! ” 

“ No, I am going to stay in it, and try to preach 
Him with my life. It is time to see Christian 
moderation, probity, and manliness in the very 
temple of mammon itself.” 

“Well, I have misunderstood you altogether. I 
feared you had got a set of pious feelings that 
would soon die out ; I did not know that a higher 
principle of duty was to be the result. Forgive, if 
you can, all my unjust, unchristian attacks upon 
you, and pray that I may learn what you have 
learned. 1 never knew, till of late, that I was lov- 
ing you and our children in an idolatrous way ; 
but under the pretence that a wife and a mother 
could not be too affectionate, I just as truly wor- 
shiped you all as if you were so many images of 
gold. I love you passionately , and Christ coldly ; 
that’s the living truth ! ” 


ANTIOCHUS. 


2 1 1 


“And the time has been that I craved, and rev- 
eled in, this devotion. It was a mystery, and a 
stud} T , and a flattery, and a delight. I did not real- 
ize that this was your attribute, as a woman, but 
took it as my due. But that day is over, and I can 
truly say that, while I could not give you to any 
human being, I can give you, not only without a 
pang, but with joy, to Christ.” 

“ To die, do you mean ? ” 

“ He never would ask me to give you up to 
death without a pang. He does not aim at the 
destruction of humanity, but at the destruction of 
what is false and depraved in it. All I mean is, 
that to see the affection in which I have rioted 
given nobly and faithfully to Christ, would be a 
pleasure, not a pain.” 

“ I do not understand. You never were so 
affectionate to us all as you are now.” 

“ I know it. And it is the legitimate result of the 
change wrought in me. And I hope my Lord and 
Master will never rest till He has completely dis- 
lodged the old life of self, by bringing His own life 
into my soul.” 

“ Well, now, I want to ask you one question, once 
for all : Do you expect to become perfect in this 
life?” 

“ I have said, once before, that I never expect, 
and do not wish, to reach a state that will lift me 


212 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


above a life of habitual caution, self-distrust, and 
growing humility. Urbane says that real and 
healthy growth in grace sets self-complacency at 
defiance.” 

“ If the time ever comes that I think you per- 
fect, shall I tell you so?” 

“ Oh, no ! You never could look away down 
into the hidden depths of my heart. And I do not 
believe that, if sinless perfection is ever attained in 
this life, it sees and talks about itself. I think its 
instincts would teach it wise silence. But I may 
see cause to form new theories. Meanwhile, 
let us follow on to know the Lord and His 
truth.” 

“ Isn’t it rather mortifying to have to acknowl- 
edge, as you are virtually doing, that you have 
been wrong all your life ? ” 

“ Do you think a blind man, suddenly restored 
to sight, spends his time in expressions of mortifi- 
cation at his past infirmity? Is he not too much 
absorbed with the new world of light on which he 
has entered ? ” 

‘‘Well! are you not afraid of what may hap- 
pen to you ? ” 

“ ‘ What time I am afraid, I will trust in God.’ 
I have still a natural shrinking from pain. If you 
should raise your hand to strike me in the face, I 
should as instinctively wink as ever I did in my 


ANTIOCHUS. 213 

life. But that would not hinder my turning to )^ou 
the other cheek.” 

“ When I think of the possibility of your dying, 
or of our losing the children, I am filled with hor- 
ror. I know I never could bear it.” 

“ God does not give His grace to meet our 
imagined evils. 1 have no doubt He will enable 
you to bear any real sorrow or trial He sends to 
you. How often we hear the remark made by the 
afflicted, in the time of greatest pain, ‘lama mar- 
vel to myself!’ Dear Junia, do not try to feel 
every step of your way; give yourself generously 
to Christ, without asking any questions or making 
any stipulations.” 

“ 1 have given myself to Him.” 

“ 1 know it. But there are times when He calls 
for new consecration ; and I think His Spirit is 
now speaking within you. I have not sought 
this conversation, or any we have hitherto held, 
for, until God’s fuf time is come, it is worse than 
useless to attempt to move a soul. But, from the 
outset, you have from time to time, led me to 
speak.” 

“A single instance of self-control, when you have 
been under provocation, affects me more than a 
year’s steady exhortation could. I believe in lives 
more than I do in talks.” 

“ So do I. But if one may never speak, either 


214 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


with tongue or pen, how many lives will an ordi- 
nary life reach ? A score, say, at most ; one’s 
household, one’s very intimate friends, one’s fre- 
quent business associates. Now, I am not content 
thus to limit my grateful testimony to what Christ 
has done for me. I want to elevate Him in the 
eye of every human being He will permit me in 
any legitimate way to reach ; for all He has done 
for me, He is longing to do for thousands.” 

“ But you will get very little thanks for your 
pains. People will resent your interference, or 
laugh at it.” 

“ Of course. On the other hand, some who are 
groping their way through the world with un 
lighted candles in their hands, will be glad to hear 
where I got mine lighted ; it is a very simple thing 
to tell them, and implies a mere fraction of wisdom 
on my part. And when they once get theirs 
lighted, their eyes will be too dazzled to look at 
me, and I can drop away into my real insignifi. 
cance.” 


CHAPTER XVII. 


THE INDWELLING CHRIST. 



ILLUSION has been made, more than 
once,” said Urban6, “to the mystical 
union of Christ with the believer. 

But several of you desiring to have 
the subject again brought up, I gladly do so, trust- 
ing to be forgiven, if I repeat myself. Martin 
Luther said, ‘ If any man knocks at the door of my 
breast, and says who lives there ? my answer is, 
Jesus Christ lives here, not Martin Luther ! ’ What 
a quaint, what a wonderful utterance ! This union, 
as we have seen, is formed by faith. As soon as it 
is formed, the old man begins to give way before 
the new Man, Christ Jesus ; there is no longer a 
struggle for holy acts and holy sensibilities, for 
these come naturally and peacefully from a pure 
Fountain.” 

“ How is this consistent with the fact that sin is 
seen in the Christian long after his conversion?” 
asked Hermes. 

( al 5) 


% 


21 6 


urban£ and his friends. 


“ Christ enters the soul in regeneration, but the 
old man, with his affections and lusts, is still living, 
and determined to live, if he can. To die to self 
is not an agreeable process. The life of Christ in 
the believer is, at first, in most cases, kept feeble 
by the tenacity and strength of this old life. Sin 
struggles for the supremacy, and still holds such 
sway, that, instead of going on his way rejoicing, 
man goes burdened, fighting, falling, doubtful 
whether so much evil can exist in a redeemed 
nature. It is true that the first sense of pardon is 
frequently the source of great joy ; but this jo}' is 
usually short-lived. To be told that he is forgiven 
past offences, but that he is never to have his free- 
dom, gives only temporary satisfaction to a galley- 
slave.” 

“ I cannot honestly say that Christ lives in me,” 
said Amplias. 

“ If you are His, He certainly does.” 

“ But I have no satisfying sense of this.” 

“ That does not change the fact.” 

“ Since I began to attend these meetings, I have 
been led to make some changes in my habits. I 
hope I pray more, for one thing. But the burden 
of sin grows heavier and more painful.” 

“ As you advance in the divine life, you will feel 
it more and more. It is no exaggeration to say 
that ‘ one sinful wish may make a hell of heaven.’ 


THE INDWELLING CHRIST. 


217 


As the conscience becomes enlightened, views of 
transgression become changed ; the law is what it 
alwaj^s has been, but man’s position relative to the 
law is undergoing constant alteration. There is 
the difference of day-dawn and full noon-tide ; 
what was dimly displayed by the one, is revealed 
perfectly by the other ; so that what once seemed 
a mote, is now felt to be a mountain.” 

“ But Christian’s burden fell off when he saw the 
cross,” said Apelles. “ Should not ours fall, like- 
wise ? ” 

“It is exactly to that point I am now coming. 
Christian became a regenerate man when he began 
his pilgrimage to the celestial city. But he had 
seen Christ in so dim a way, that sin was still a 
heavy burden to him. But the moment he saw 
the cross, his burden rolled off his shoulders : 
Then was Christian glad and lightsome, and 
said, with a merry heart, ‘ He hath given me rest 
by His sorrow, and life by His death.’ Then he 
stood still to look and wonder; for it was very sur- 
prising to him that the sight of the cross should 
thus ease him of his burthen. He looked, there- 
fore, and looked again, till the springs that were in 
his head sent the waters down his cheeks. Now, 
as he stood looking and weeping, behold three 
shining ones came to him, and saluted him with 

‘Peace be to thee; ’ so the first said to him, * Tlvy 
10 


218 URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 

Bins be forgiven thee ; ’ the second stripped him of 
his rags, and clothed him with change of raiment; 
the third also set a mark in his forehead, and gave 
him a roll with a seal upon it, which he bid him 
look on as he ran, and that he should give in at the 
celestial city. Then Christian gave three leaps for 
joy, and went on singing. 

“ Now, very few get such a view of the cross at 
conversion as removes at once the burden of sin, 
and yet they must get it, or be all their lives subject 
to bondage. And if any of you are not enjoying 
the sweetest peace of conscience, this is, no doubt, 
what you want.” 

“ But did not Christian, soon after receiving his 
roll, lose it? ” 

“ Yes. He fell a victim, as too many do, to a fit 
of spiritual pride. Instead of continuing to look at 
Christ, he looked, with pleasure, at his new robe, 
and studied up the proofs of his piety in his roll. 
And in this self-satisfied state, he fell asleep, and 
did not perceive that in these idle moments he had 
met with a loss that could only be replaced by pen- 
itential, weary retracing of his steps. Now many 
Christians spend a large portion of their lives in 
this very way. They get into a ‘good frame,’ and 
then fall to admiring it, making it the ground of 
their hope ; they imagine that all is now going 
well with them, and sit down, at their ease. But 


THE INDWELLING CHRIST. 


2IQ 


before long, this security gives way before a lapse 
into sin, which is followed by painful doubts and 
misgivings. They retrace their steps, eager to 
recover their * evidences,’ and after a weary strug- 
gle, recover them under the influence of another 
4 frame ; ’ then the old story is repeated. Can any- 
thing be more comfortless than such a life?” 

“ How can one get out of it? ” asked Apelles. 

“ By receiving Christ, by faith, into his soul. The 
union is mystical and indescribable, but we may 
put implicit belief in it, because we are taught it in 
the word of God. Just in proportion as Christ 
lives in the soul, self goes out, and with it, sin ; 
just in proportion as self goes out, Christ comes 
in. Now He is held in the soul, as He was re- 
ceived, by faith. Leighton says: ‘ Faith so looks 
on the death of Christ, that it takes the impression 
of it, sets it on the heart, kills it unto sin. Christ 
and the believer do not only become one in law, so 
that His death stands for theirs, but one in nature, 
so that His death for sin causes theirs to it. They 
are baptized into His death.’ ” 

“ This is a great mystery,” said Amplias. “ I fail 
to grasp it.” 

“ It is far better to know it, practically, than to 
form theories concerning it. A blind man may have 
ver}' fine conceptions of objects he has never seen, 
out theses conceptions will be the mere creation of 


220 


urban£ and his friends. 


his fancy. One instant of open vision would sweep 
it away." 

“You said once that Christ lives in every re- 
newed soul,” said Apelles, “ but that He lives more 
completely in some souls than in others. Now 
how is one to get into perfect union with Him ?” 

“ Earnest desire for it is one of the first steps. 
Earnest prayer will be the legitimate result of de- 
sire. And the Holy Spirit who formed, will con- 
tinually be making the union more and more com- 
plete.” 

“ I have always regarded the language of Christ 
on this subject as metaphorical,” said Amplias. 

“ Try to get a conception of a ‘ spiritual Christ,’ 
a ‘ Christ mystical,’ but real ; and let metaphor go. 
We want no metaphor in our souls; we want a 
Person. And we want this Christ to come and live 
m, and feel, and act for us ; we want to be able to 
say, in sublime contradiction, ‘ I live, yet not I, but 
Christ liveth in me.’ ” 

“ Is not such language a boast?” was asked. 

“ Boasting is excluded when Christ fills the soul ; 
and until He does fill it, no man dares say, ‘ Christ 
lives in me!’ I think I may venture to use an 
illustration that may make the subject clearer to 
those of you whQ look so perplexed. You under- 
stand what the Bible means when it speaks of a 
man as ‘ possessed with a devil.’ You know it 


THE INDWELLING CHRIST. 


221 


means that he acts and talks, not like himself, but 
like an evil spirit; and you charge his rude, and 
violent, and malignant behavior, to that spirit, not 
to him. 

“ Now, suppose a soul be possessed by Christ ! It 
will cease to speak its own words, or to think its 
own thoughts ; it will come under the perfect do- 
minion of Christ’s nature, and His sacred image 
will shine forth from it. Once it loved to have its 
own way, but now He has His way. It once shrank 
from every form of suffering, evading it by every 
possible expedient. Now it not only is patient in 
tribulation, but glories in it. Where it delighted to 
sing its own praises, it delights to hear His. Where 
it sat comfortably at ease, it now endures hardness. 
Where it was once harsh, and uncharitable, and en- 
vious, it is now brimming with love to all men. 
But all this is Christ’s work, not his ; so he has 
nothing wherein to glory, and nobody feels that 
more than he does.” 

“ Was it to this you referred when you said that 
you hoped to show us that provision had been 
made to secure our peace?” asked Amplias. 

“ It was. A soul just in the degree that Christ 
dwells in it, is free from the distractions and tur- 
moils which once tormented it, for it acts quietly, 
under divine direction, not according to its own 
wayward, feverish will. It is free from an accusing 


222 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


conscience, and has the sweetest peace. And this 
is a peace which nothing but a lapse into self can 
disturb. No sorrow destroys it ; in fact, there is 
a joy born of sorrow that is as unique as it is 
marvelous.” 

“Let me now read to you,” he continued, “a 
striking passage from an old writer, Bishop Hall, 
or ‘Joseph of Norwich,’ as he signed himself: 
‘ Here is a spiritual marriage betwixt Christ and 
the soul. The liking of one part doth not make up 
the match ; but the consent of both. To this pur- 
pose, Christ gives His Spirit ; the soul plights her 
faith ; what interest have we in Christ, but by His 
Spirit? what interest hath Christ in us, but by our 
faith ? ’ Again, ‘ There is more in the Christian than 
thou seest ; for he is both an entire body of himself, 
and he is a limb of another more excellent ; even 
that glorious mystical body of his Saviour; to 
whom he is so united that the actions of either are 
reciprocally referred to each other. For, on the 
one side, the Christian lives in Christ, dies in Christ, 
in Christ fulfills the law, possesseth heaven ; on the 
other, Christ is persecuted by Paul, in his mem- 
bers, and is persecuted in Paul afterwards by 
Others ; He suffers in us, He lives in us, He works 
in and by us ; so thou canst not do either good or 
harm to a Christian, but thou doest it to his Re- 
deemer, to whom he is invisibly united. Thou 


THE INDWELLING CHRIST. 


2 2-3 


seest him as a man ; and, therefore worthy of favor, 
for humanity’s sake ; thou seest him not as a Chris- 
tian worthy of honor, for his secret, and yet true 
union with our Saviour. I will love every Chris- 
tian for that I see ; honor him for that I shall see.’ ” 

“You must be well aware,” said Amplias, “that 
few of us know what it is to have Christ possess 
our souls.” 

“ Is it not something to believe that He can, that 
He is willing to do it?” 

“Yes, it is. But I want to realize it in my own 
experience. I begin to long for Christ.” 

Likewise also said they all. 

“ It rejoices me to hear this,” said Urban6, look- 
ing with parental affection upon the little group. 
“ And I beg you to regard this longing as a gift 
of the Spirit. Cherish it, and it will become resolve 
and purpose. You must not rest till you have 
learned in blessed experience what it is to have 
Christ abide in you. But in order for it, you must 
be willing to give up everything that can disturb 
the union. He is quick to perceive disloyalty, and 
will make you sensible of this ; as He gave up 
all for you, so He expects all from you, the 
whole price you owe Him ; your body, soul, and 
spirit.” 

“ This would be a sort of crucifixion ! ” said Heh 
via, with almost a shudder. 


224 


URBAN# AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ It is worth all it costs, my child/’ said Urban£, 
tenderly. 

H el via cast down her eyes, and was silent. She 
loved Christ ; He was living in her ; she could not 
forget what He had been to her. But He had 
been partially dethroned by an earthly idol, and 
she was not willing to give up either. The strug- 
gle in her mind had been going on very painfully 
for months ; a cup, innocent in itself, had been put 
to her lips; she longed to drink it; but the drop 
she had tasted, had disturbed her religious peace, 
and she feared she might lose Christ altogether if 
she went on indulging herself. Nor was she strug- 
gling alone. Nearly every one present had some 
plan, some pursuit, some habit, some idol, which it 
was hard to relinquish. 

After the meeting, Helvia nerved herself to speak 
to her father of what was passing in her heart. 

“ Father,” she said, “you know what it is to be be- 
reaved of friends by death, and I know you have 
been a great sufferer. But you were able to bear it 
because you love God’s will so. Did vou ever lose 
a very precious thing by your own act, rather than 
His?” 

“ Yes, my beloved child, I have.” 

“ Did it hurt dreadfully?” 

“ Yes, it was very painful.” 

“ Are you glad or sorry, now that it is over?” 


THE INDWELLING CHRIST. 


2 25 


“ God never took anything from me that He did 
not replace by some better gift ; I never voluntarilj 
gave Him anything I now wish I had kept.” 

“ But you suffered ? ” 

“ I suffered ; yes ; but shall I tell you what has 
cost me infinitely more pain than any loss ? ” 

“ Oh, yes ! ” 

“ It is what I have kept.” 

Helvia remained standing silent a few moments 
longer, then bade her father good-night, and retired. 
He did not know what was passing in her mind, 
nor did he even ask her, but he prayed for her 
mightily, entreating her Lord to stand by her in 
her hour of conflict, and keep her true and loyal to 
Himself. Day by day he watched her with such 
sympathy, that his heart ached for her, physically. 
And, by degrees, she came forth from this trial of 
her faith, with her love to Christ so intensified that 
she could waver no more. 

Ah, how little we are called upon to sacrifice for 
Him, in comparison with the opulence with which 
He rewards us ! 

10* 





CHAPTER XVIII. 

JUNI A. 

HE soul of Junia was in a sad toss. Her 
pride, her love of power, were brought 
to bay. Antiochus had been hitherto led 
by her, and now he had escaped from 
under her hand. And his happiness was so exuber- 
ant that it ran over, and found its vent in their 
children, to whom he was becoming a perfect 
fascination. They were all boys and girls together; 
his cares had taken to themselves wings, and he 
was so set free from self that he had time to en- 
ter into all their pastimes, and to sympathize with 
all their little grievances. Those inexperienced 
in the divine life, and who have morbid views of it, 
fancy that religion is all sacrifice and austerity. But 
it really requires nothing to be renounced that is 
worth the keeping, nor does it dwell in the cloistSr 
or hide in the cell. It may seem somewhat singu- 
lar that, with such a bright little mother about her, 

(*26) 



JUNIA. 


22 y 


Junia could fall into this error; but she had not 
penetrated into the principle that ruled Claudia’s 
life ; she thought it was mother s way to be sunny 
and happy, not that it was the duty and privilege 
of every redeemed soul to be “ glad in the Lord.’ 
Antiochus was, therefore, a great mystery and 
study to her ; she could not reconcile the earnest- 
ness, and enthusiasm, and tireless energy with which 
he worked and prayed for souls, with the glad boy- 
ishness with which, between whiles, he played with 
th§ children. But there is nothing so fresh and 
happy as a holy heart ; and such a heart was 
unfolding new graces every day in this changed 
man. 

Junia was neither thoughtless nor prayerless ; she 
was not specially conceited or ill-tempered, or 
selfish, but she was an idolater ; and this she was 
coming more and more clearly to acknowledge to 
herself. All her life long she had now this, now 
that idol, on whom she lavished an intensity of 
devotion, graciously accepted by the favored ob- 
ject, from whom she never won a tithe of what she 
gave. This may look like an amiable weakness, 
rather becoming in a woman, than otherwise. But 
if amiable towards man, it is not loyal to God. In 
the divine union, typified in the Word by the mar- 
riage relation, Christ is a jealous Lover ; He wants 
the first place in the heart He has died to redeem, 


228 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


and has a right to want it. It is His voice that 
declares that whoso loveth aught more than Him- 
self, is not worthy of Him. 

“ But,” it may here be objected, “ did not God 
give to this whole-souled, true-hearted woman, the 
love that she lavished so prodigally upon her 
friends?” Yes, it was His gift; but to use a gift 
is one thing, to abuse it another. And Junia had 
this yet to learn, and, since she would have it so, 
learn it painfully. The disease so much dreaded 
bv young mothers crept into her nursery, and laid 
her flowers low. It looked as if her four children 
were to be snatched away at one blow. Such 
things, alas ! have been. Junia could neither sleep 
nor eat. Her heart rose up and defied God. If a 
resolute will and absolute self-sacrifice could save 
life, she was determined to save these. In vain her 
mother and husband besought her to wait patiently 
on the divine will. Her constant cry was; “ I can- 
not give them up ! They must not die ! ” 

Antiochus left his business and shared all her 
cares. Claudia, with an aching heart, but with 
unshaken faith, brought all her experience and 
courage to the rescue. Above all, they prayed, 
and so did many and many a loving friend. But 
this was the fashion of their prayers : “ If it be Thy 
will, spare these precious lives ; ” while Junia’s cry 
rang upon the Divine ear, in the unqualified de- 


JUNIA. 


229 


mand : 1 Spare them unto me, spare them, spare 
them ! ” 

At last her prayer appeared to be heard. One by 
one, step by step, her darlings came back to her. She 
snatched them triumphantly from the jaws of death, 
and pressed them with intenser love to her passion- 
ate heart. And she felt a certain gratitude to God 
for sparing them to her, which led her, for a time, 
to more love and obedience than she had ever 
known. But she was too full of earthly treasures 
to have much room for her Lord, and soon returned, 
though with an uneasy conscience, to the round of 
duties and pleasures of her hearth and home. 
There was much that was womanly and Christian 
in her outside life. She made the household wheels 
move very smoothly ; everything about her was 
delicate and dainty. Antiochus could want for 
nothing, nor could Claudia. Junia was a loving 
daughter, as well as a devoted wife and mother. 
She read the Bible to her children, and spoke to 
them of Jesus. She gave alms generously, and 
supplied many an invalid with luxuries from her 
own well-ordered table. But she was not perfectly 
happy. She knew she had not the faith and love 
that shone in the lives of her mother and husband, 
and that no one was to blame for this, save 
herself. 

There was a great storm gathering in her sky 


230 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


but she wist it not, and walked securel ) 7 on. Now 
her head was full of household cares, then there 
were the children’s wardrobes to arrange. She 
entered her closet every day, but those cares and 
interests went there, too. In the very midst of 
solemn petition came an idea how to trim this 
garment or that hat ; a wonder whether this child 
had best go to school or not ; the memory of what 
such a friend said and another did. She rose from 
her knees, abashed, but thankful that this duty had 
been done, and that she was now at liberty to 
pursue the devices and desires of her partially 
renewed heart. 

Another of the foes with which childhood has to 
contend crossed the threshold of her nursery. It 
was an inconvenient, rather than an alarming, dis- 
ease ; still, with her usual self-reliance, Junia deter- 
mined to face and fight it. She would not entrust 
her darlings to the servants ; they might sleep too 
soundly, and neglect them. So, though Antiochus 
begged to share her nursery cares, she gay ly re- 
fused him the privilege, and, secure in her youth, 
and health, and strength, went to spend her nights, 
like a good shepherd, among her lambs. 

Everything progressed favorably. When a child 
coughed ever so lightly, she sprang nimbly from 
her bed, raised it up till the paroxysm was over, 
laid it down again, with a kiss, folded the coverlet 


JUNIA. 


23I 


carefully over it, and fell asleep in two minutes, to 
be aroused, perhaps, in two more. At last, this 
disturbed sleep began to tell upon her, and so did 
her anxieties, for the children were losing their 
food and wasting. The storm is creeping on ; to- 
night it will burst ! 

Junia sleeps soundly, heavily, as one exhausted; 
one child coughs, then another; she starts up in 
confusion, hardly able to open her eyes; now they 
are all coughing terribly. 

“ Poor things, I must stop this ! ” she says. 

Oh, Junia ! not that bottle ! Not that ! 

Is there no guardian angel near enough to snatch 
it from your hand ? 

“ Here, darling, take this ; mamma cannot bear 
to hear you cough so ; and you, my precious one ; 
and you, my little pearl ; and you, my bit of sun- 
shine ; down with it, like a brave man ! ” 

If she had only let God take them, instead of 
putting them away herself! 

Antioch us awoke early, and crept softly to the 
nursery to look after his dear ones. Junia was 
sleeping quietly ; he rejoiced to see her taking 
such sweet rest. He glanced at the children ; they, 
too, were asleep. He returned to his room, and 
was in the midst of the prayer it was now so de- 
lightful to offer, when he heard the sound of a 
body falling to the nursery floor above. He was 


232 


urban£ and his friends. 


there in an instant. Junia lay in convulsions 
on the threshold, a small vial clasped in her 
hand ; he wrenched it frcm Ixr, and read its fatai 
label 1 







CHAPTER XIX. 

PAIN AND SORROW. 

VERYONE was struck with Urbane’s 
appearance as he announced this sub- 
ject. He looked pale and fatigued, and 
yet heavenly. 

“ I have chosen to speak, this evening,” he said, 
“ on subjects naturally repugnant to the inexperi- 
enced. Handled unwisely, they turn to us only 
a dark, repelling side. But they have their bright 
side as well, and he who has found it may hence- 
forth walk in the light thereof. 

“ Pain may be experienced by the infant of a day. 
Perhaps the fact and penalty of sin never comes 
home to us so closely as when we see a young and 
fragile life thus assailed. 

* A Christian child in pain ! 

Oh, sad, amazing thought ! ' 

We stand appalled at its side. It has never sinned. 

(233) 



234 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

Why should it suffer ? It cannot understand what 
is befalling it ; no moral or spiritual results can 
come to it through this channel; to what purpose, 
then, it may be asked, this waste ? There is but 
one explanation. The cold shadow of the cross lies 
upon even the tender limbs of infancy ; the child is 
born to suffer, because it is born to sin. And as 
infancy ripens into boyhood, and the boy becomes 
a man, the cruel shadow lengthens and deepens. 
He does not suffer mere physical pain. He be- 
comes introduced to grief. He did not seek this 
introduction, and the face of Sorrow is one in which 
he sees no comeliness. He shuns her, he hates her ; 
he would flee from her if he could. If he recog- 
nizes her as God’s messenger, he has hard thoughts 
of God. He cries: ‘What have I done, that I 
should be thus afflicted ? Why should treasures 
be given me at all, if they are to be wantonly 
snatched away again ? Could I not have avoided 
this blow ? If I had done this, that, and the other, 
could I not have averted it ? Life was so pleasant, 
I was enjoying it so much, I thought God was 
good and kind, and now I find Him vindictive and 
cruel/ ” 

“ Isn’t it natural to feel thus ? ” asked Apelles. 

“It is natural. For the natural man receiveth 
not the things of the Spirit of God. To the unsanc^ 
tified soul, pain and sorrow are problems it vainly 


PAIN AND SORROW. 235 

strives to solve. The voice of nature is absolutely 
silent before these awful mysteries.” 

“ But the voice of grace does not always satisfy 
even a regenerate soul,” said Apelles. 

“ That, alas, is true! The character of God is so 
dimly understood, that even Christian believers, or 
those who call themselves such, ‘ charge God fool- 
ishly.’ They may not dare to say, in so many 
words, ‘ this ought not to have been ! ’ but they say 
it by indulging in grief most inordinate, by putting 
on gloomy expressions of countenance, wearing sa- 
ble garments, and withdrawing from the most inno- 
cent pleasures of life, as if nothing were now left to 
enjoy.” 

“ Does not great sorrow naturally create indiffer- 
ence to all else? ” 

“ Here we have the word 1 natural ’ again, and I 
reply yes. But let us look a little into the design 
of our Father in chastising us. He has a right to 
be believed, for God cannot lie, and He says He 
chastens because He loves us.” 

“To punish us for our sins,” said Amplias. 

“ Not so. The lighteous suffer, sometimes, more 
than the wicked. Our Father sees in the human 
heart much that is sinful, crude, and worthless, and 
which is not only offensive in His eye, but would, 
in time, be the source of great trial to itself. He 
says, I will cast this heart, with all its imperfec- 


236 URBANIi AND HIS FRIENDS. 

tions, into my furnace and burn away its dross. It 
will, at first, be amazed that a loving Hand could 
do such a thing, but I will do for it yet greater 
things. I will step into the furnace with it, and de- 
clare that I am going to stand by it till my work is 
done. If, on my doing this, it turns upon and up- 
braids, and contends with me, I shall perceive that 
the furnace was not hot enough to burn up the 
unsanctified will, and I shall make it hotter ; so hot 
that pride shall melt away in that fervent heat ; so 
hot that the stubborn will shall become a silken 

thread by which I can lead it withersoever I please 

* 

Yea, I will so subdue the man, that he will fall 
down on his knees and bless me for this trial by 
fire.” 

“ O, do you really mean that one can thank God 
for pain? Pain against which every instinct re 
volts ? ” said Amplias, 

“ Millions of souls have come out of great tribu- 
lation, and are now praising Him for all they 
endured on earth,” was the reply. “ For while 
thus enduring, they were gaining strength for com- 
ing conflicts, and becoming equipped for the work 
of life. Sorrow has revealed Christ to them as 
even Joy could not do. He has shown to His suf- 
ferers that tender, sympathizing love that has won 
their love. And their sharpest pangs, their darkest 
days, their deepest wounds become so associated 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


237 


with His voice and His smile, that they count 
those pangs, those days, those wounds dear unto 
them. Faith grows best in the dark. It then strikes 
its roots down deep, deep, deep ; they interlace the 
roots of being already there, and grapple with 
every weakness and folly. In time a mighty forest 
springs up ; fainting, suffering men and women flee 
to its shades and find shelter; birds of inconceiv- 
able variety and beauty sing upon its branches, and 
enliven its solitudes. Its evergreen boughs adorn 
the Christmas festival ; its massive trunks form 
ships that can traverse oceans, and bring home 
treasures more priceless than rubies; it becomes a 
sanctuary where God is worshiped, and the hymn 
and the anthem resound in its aisles. Suffering has 
its majesty and grandeur ; it stands side by side with 
Christ, in fellowship with Him, and takes part in 
the same.” 

“ Should we seek it, then?” asked Amplias. 

“ By no means. That would be presumption.” 

“ I have heard people do it.” 

“ Oh, no ! you misunderstood the petition. Prayer 
is from the Spirit, and the Spirit dictates no pre- 
sumption. What you refer to was, no doubt, some- 
thing like this. * Lord, I am so resolved to be 
entirely Thine, that I come to Thee, and entreat 
Thee to make me such, and to do it in Thine own 
way, and on Thine own terms. If I have any idols, 


238 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

take them away. If I delight in any object that 
intrudes between me and Thee, make it odious to 
me, or snatch it from me.’ Another design of our 
dear Lord in afflicting His children, is to give 
them a noble opportunity to glorify Him. Suf- 
fering borne in patience, submission, and faith, 
testifies of Him. It says, ‘ It is the Lord, let Him 
do unto me as seemeth to Him good/ ‘ The Lord 
gave, and the Lord hath taken away, and blessed 
be the name of the Lord/ ” 

“ This remark throws light,” said Hermes, “ on a 
point that has greatly puzzled me. I never could 
understand the afflictions sent upon persons who 
were already so holy as to seem to me to need no 
correction. It was said, just now, that the truly 
subdued soul comes, in time, to love chastisement ; 
how does this agree with the cry of our Lord, ‘ If it 
be possible, let this cup pass from me ? ” 

“ Grace does not so harden the heart that it can- 
not feel suffering, and instinctively shrink from it. 
Christ’s humanity was for a single instant appalled 
by the bitterness of the cup set before Him. For 
He was not only to bear the burden of the sins of 
the whole world, but all its sorrows also. No won- 
der He recoiled from it! Yet it was but a momen- 
tary recoil. With His next breath He recalled 
His own prayer, ‘ Save me from this hour,’ and 
cried, ‘ But. for this cause came I unto this hour/ ” 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


239 


“ There is no doubt that a soul that has never been 
down into the depths, and cried out of those depths 
for a Rock on which to plant itself, only partially 
knows Christ ; only partially understands life,” said 
Philologus. 

“ I am sure of it. I love to misquote, and say : 

‘ The love of Jesus, what it is, 

Only His sufferers know.’ 

What doesfa child, who has never had a sick day 
know about the great deep of his mother’s heart ? 
Sweet relations exist between them, but there is 
nothing unique in those relations. But let him 
break a limb, or be cast upon a sick bed, and lo, she 
becomes, as it were, his sole property, giving her- 
self away to him as if he alone existed on earth. 
Her tenderness, her strength, her love, her sympa- 
thy hover round him ; she cannot do enough to 
show how she appreciates his sufferings. And 
when, sometimes, in the height of his pain, he re- 
fuses any ministrations save hers, she lavishes 
them upon him day and night with a most mu- 
nificent hand.” 

“ And he does not need to enlarge upon his suf- 
ferings in order to excite her sympathy,” said Phil- 
ologus. “ His pathetic cry, ‘ Oh, mother, mother !' 
tells the whole story ; and there are times when a 
suffering soul can say no more, need do no more 


240 urban£ and his friends. 

than utter the beloved name of Christ, to bring 
Him nearer than any elaborate prayer of prosper- 
ous days had ever done.” 

“Take special heed to what we say, young 
friends, for we have learned these attributes of our 
Lord in times of sore pain and sorrow,” said Ur- 
bane. “ Looking at us, take courage as you face 
the unknown future. Christ said, ‘ In the world ye 
shall have tribulation, but be of good cheer; I have 
overcome the world.’ And never spake He a truer 
word ; He has overcome it. 1 Ah, what beautiful 
things Christ has shown to me through the medium 
of this bereavement,’ said a Christian father, weep- 
ing over the memory of his first-born child.” 

“ V'ou are getting out of my depth here. I never 
lost a very near and dear friend,” said Apelles. 

“ But you have had great trials.” 

“Yes, I have been stiff-necked and hard to rule; 
and have had to be taken in hand.” 

“ I have had to part with very dear friends, and 
never once could see the reason. And that made 
it so hard ! ” said Amplias. 

“We must let our Lord manage His kingdom ac- 
cording to the counsels of His own will. There is 
no reason why we should understand His motive 
for this and that act. It is best we should not. ‘ I 
was dumb, I opened not my mouth, because Thou 
did’st it’ — not ‘I was dumb, because I knew Thy 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


241 


reasons.’ Take a little child a few years old, and 
undertake to explain to him all his father does. His 
reason cannot grasp the explanation. Now, the 
< wisest man on earth is a child. He is not capable 
of comprehending the deeds of a God. His position 
should be simply one of trust. Suppose you are 
very ill, and send for your physician ; and he begins 
to discourse about remedies in a scientific way, and 
in language you cannot understand ; would you 
not say, ‘ Apply the remedies, and cure me ; I need 
no explanations as to why you do this or that.’ He 
may reply, * But some of my remedies will be very 
painful.’ 1 Ye s, but I want to be healed. You are 
my physician ; you must use your methods, not 
mine. If I could have cured myself, I should not 
have summoned you?’” 

“ But some of God’s ways look very mysterious,” 
said Apelles. 

“ Of course they do. They are mysterious. He 
has a perfect right to be a God who ‘ hideth Him- 
self.’ ” 

“Yet 4 His secret is with them that fear Him,’ ” 
said Hermes. 

“ Well, now I want to ask one thing. Could the 
children of Israel have gone right into the promised 
land ? ” asked Amplias. 

“ Undoubtedly.” 

“ And can Christians go right into theirs?” 

11 


242 urban£ and his friends. 

“ Certainly.” 

“Then why do they not?” 

“They will not take God at His word.” 

“ Do you mean that we should not be led through 
a wilderness, unless we choose to be?” 

“ Yes.” 

“ That we need no trials or sorrows? ” 

“ I am not prepared to say that. What I do say 
is this, that it is inconsistent with the character of 
a God of love to provide no way for His children 
to pass through life except in an ever retracing 
path through the mazes of a wilderness. If our 
eyes are blinded by self-love, and our wills are only 
partially subdued, we shall be slow to see and ac- 
cept God’s way ; but that is our fault, not His.” 

“ And what is this way ? ” 

“ Christ. He says, * I am the Way, and the Truth, 
and the Life.’ He has not come to save us merely 
from eternal death. He has come Ho save His 
people from their sins.’ But if they will not let 
Him do it, they will have to stumble through life 
under much humbling and proving discipline.” 

“ I had always supposed correction presupposed 
sin, and wondered what secret error some really 
good people were guilty of, that they were so 
afflicted. But I see my mistake. And I see, too, 
that if at the outset we so receive Christ as to be 
enfolded in His righteousness and to abide in Him, 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


243 


we shall not find this world a perplexing wilder- 
ness, although we meet in it with sorrow,” said 
Hermes. 

“Ah, my brother, flesh and blood hath not re- 
vealed this unto you ! ” 

“ Yet I still see men as trees walking.” 

“ More light will come as you get your eyes 
opened. I want to call your attention to another 
point. To be unhappy is one thing, to suffer is 
quite another. Remember that the soul, though 
* sorrowing,’ may be ‘always rejoicing.* The char- 
acter of God is in nowise altered by what He sees 
fit to inflict upon us, and the loyal soul will be true 
to Him, even while He seems to be slaying it. 

Trouble, dear friend, I know her not. God sent 
His angel Sorrow, on my heart to lay 
Her hand in benediction, and to say, 

“Restore, O child ! that which thy Father lent 
(For He doth now recall it) long ago. ” 

His blessed angel Sorrow ! She has walked 
For years beside me, and we two have talked 
As chosen friends together. Thus I know 
Trouble and Sorrow are not near of kin. 

Trouble distrusteth God, and ever wears 
Upon her brow the seal of many cares. 

But Sorrow oft has deepest peace within. 

She sits with Patience in perpetual calm, 

Waiting till heaven shall send the healing balm. 

“ He who cannot understand these lines has some 
very precious lessons to learn,” said Hermes. 


244 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

“ Hear this ! ” said Urban6 : “ When nearly ninety 
years of age, Dr. Daniel Chaplin was informed of 
the sudden death of a son, in whom his heart was 
bound up. A burst of agony broke from everyone 
in the room, save the aged father. As soon as 
he could speak, he said, in a subdued tone of 
voice : ‘ I think I can say I am truly thankful that 
I had such a son to give back to God.’ He then 
opened his lips, and for an hour spake with a calm- 
ness, a clearness, an eloquence, that I have never 
heard surpassed. It was the man, the father, the 
minister, baptized by the Holy Ghost. This was 
not the result of insensibility. From that blow, so 
calmly received, he never recovered. 

“And listen to this : ‘ If I know the meaning of 
the word sorrow, I also know of a joy a stranger 
intermeddleth not with/ 

“ ‘ It is worth being afflicted to become intimately 
acquainted with and to learn to make use of the 
Chiefest among ten thousand, the altogether lovely, 
the Brother born for adversity, the Friend that 
sticketh closer than a brother.’ 

“ This is the testimony of Lady Powerscourt,” 
said Urbane. “ I wish there were more like it. 
And the Bedford tinker — a tinker, and yet a prince ! 
— says : ‘ Were it lawful, I could pray for greater 
trouble, for the greater comfort’s sake.’ This is 
one of the Christian paradoxes, which they who 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


245 


canno* understand must accept on testimony. No 
man can use such language, whose aching heart 
has not * leaned hard ’ on the great, sympathizing 
Heart that was bruised for our transgressions. 
And hear this testimony from a dungeon under 
ground, called ‘ Little Ease,’ in which the prisoner 
could neither stand, sit, nor lie down : ‘ To have 
knelt, I could not ; no more, I fancy, could Jonah. 
But I could pray as well as he. That was the first 
gleam of inward light; and after that it’ grew. 
Aye, and grew till I was no more alone, because 
God companied with me ; till I was no more an 
hungered, because God fed me ; till I thirsted no 
more, because God led me unto living fountains of 
waters ; till I wept no more, because God wiped 
away all tears from mine eyes. Ere I came forth, 
I would not have changed Little Ease for the fairest 
chamber of the queen’s palace, if thereby I had left 
Him behind. It gained on me, till my will grew 
into God’s will, till I was absolutely content to 
die or live, as He would ; to be burned in Smith- 
field, or come home and clasp you all to mine heart, 
as should be most to His glory I had left hop- 

ing for change; I only thought how very fair and 
sweet the house of the Father would be after this.’ 

“God has yet another design in His afflicting 
providences. It is to teach us sympathy,” he con- 
tinued. 


■ , 




2 \§ URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

* Old and young all brought their troubles, 

Great and small, for me to hear : 

I have often blessed my sorrows 
That draw others’ grief so near/ 

repeated Hermes. 

“And it is only an act of Fatherly love and kind* 
ness, when He weans us from our habit of leaning 
on earthly things.” 

“ What do you consider the true attitude in 
which to meet sorrow ? ” asked Amplias. 

“ I would have it met, first, in faith — ‘ This is the 
will of my Father.’ Second, in submission — ‘ Thy 
will be done.’ This spirit silences complaint and 
in time brings perfect peace.” 

“ I have seen persons give way to grief in a man- 
ner that made them a psychological study,” said 
Philologus. 

“ And they throw away thus one of those oppor- 
tunities of life for which they will be called to ac-. 
count,” added Urban6. “ Immoderate indulgence 
of grief ; selfish disregard for the sufferings of 
others ; an assumption that one is the chief mourn- 
er on earth, is a sight most painful to behold. It 
springs from want of personal love to Christ, and 
can find its cure in that alone. The eye of faith 
beholds — 

‘ A golden stair, like that of old, whereon 
Fair spirits go and come ; 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


247 


God’s angels coming down on errands sweet, 

Our angels going home.’ ” 

“ But suppose one has not faith to see the ‘ golden 
stair,’ or ‘ God’s angels ’ coming down upon it, 
what then?” asked Amplias. 

“ Let him wait upon God till he does. And here 
I want to make a suggestion. Never judge of the 
sufferings of another by what you see of them. The 
bitterness of his heart is known only to Omniscience. 
Step carefully when you enter this unknown land, 
and respect the regions you may never explore. 
Many a life that, viewed from its surface, appears 
to be as that of other men, has known disappoint- 
ments marked by no outward token, and bereave- 
ments revealed by no gravestone. The untold tale 
is the tragical story of a bleeding, broken heart ; 
see to it that yours shall never be the hand that 
thoughtlessly reopens those unsuspected wounds”. 

“ That is a timely word. We wrong each other 
sorely in this regard. Perhaps there are few things 
more painful than that — 

* Not even the tenderest heart, and next our own, 

Knows half the reasons why we smile or sigh.’ ” 

“Yes. And this makes the sympathy of Christ 
so precious. He knows the otherwise utterly un- 
known.” 

“And while the eyes of men are holden, that they 


248 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

see not what we suffer, Christ is leaning over us 
and tenderly binding up our wounds,” said Hermes. 
“ My friends, I came near throwing away a great 
sorrow, but after four years of dogged, sullen, hope- 
less pain, my heart has been melted by such love 
as I never conceived of. Having been one of the 
saddest, most misanthropic of men, I have become 
one of the happiest.” 

These words, very modestly and quietly spoken, 
made a marked impression on all present. They 
knew with what hardness he had borne his sorrow, 
and it was inspiring to see the ice melted. 

Especially was Urbane’s heart gladdened, for he 
had prayed for Hermes ever}?- day during those 
four years, in patient faith, and he knew that 
Stephanas had done the same. He left his seat, 
and crossed the room, to give to Hermes the right 
hand of fellowship, and several others followed his 
example. 

“ One of the most melancholy errors of life,” he 
said, resuming his subject, “ is, to use the language 
of our brother, to throw away a sorrow. Christ 
loves sufferers, and when, through pain and sor- 
row, He sees them cut off from outward sources of 
peace and rest, how He hastens to their relief! 
He comes to the stricken soul, sick almost unto 
death, but yearning for Him, and gives Himself to 
it in a depth, a variety, and an opulence of grace, 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


249 


to which no illustration can do justice. It grieves 
me to see this truth put out of sight; it hurts me 
to have that great, sacred Heart wounded ; I want 
to get in between it and the blow aimed at it.” 

“ So do I,” said Philologus. “And I love to tell 
afflicted souls that, ‘though weeping endure for a 
night, joy will come in the morning/ and that that 
morning will be Christ.” 

“ Listen to the words of one now in glory,” said 
Urbane : “ ‘ We must keep in mind how very short 
life is, and how little difference it makes what 
changes befall, or who goes first, or who is spared 
to stay behind a little while alone. It is only the 
difference of one rising in the morning a little 
earlier, and the other lying and sleeping a little 
longer. We shall all be up and abroad in a short 
time, enjoying the morning sunshine. Whether 
the bed be harder or softer, the room smaller or 
larger, the night darker or lighter, in this brief 
interval, is not of much consequence/ 

“A friend narrated to me this incident: ‘Visiting 
a glass-house, she observed upon the floor, among 
rejected and broken fragments, a number of objects 
of graceful shapes, and partially decorated with 
great beauty. 

“ ‘ Whence this rejection ? ’ she asked. 

“ ‘ Each of these objects revealed a flaw,’ was the 
reply. ‘ Some nice engraving had been done upon 

11* 


250 URBAN# AND HIS FRIENDS. 

them before it was discovered that they were not 
worth ornamenting, on account of weak spots. 
Now, here are others that would bear any amount 
of work, and you see how beautiful they are as the 
result/ 

“‘Yes,’ was her silent thought; ‘ thus the Al- 
mighty hand begins to engrave His own image on 
human souls ; some have courage and strength to 
bear His painful processes, and become objects of 
spiritual beauty even in His sight ; but others give 
way, and He has to cast them aside.’ 

“And they become useless vessels!” said Ur- 
ban6. “ I hardly know a sadder fate. ‘ Not to be 
afflicted,’ says Bishop Hall, ‘ is a sign of weakness ; 
for, therefore, God imposeth no more on me, be- 
cause He sees I can bear no more. God will not 
make choice of a weak champion. When I am 
stronger, I will look for more ; and when I sustain 
more, it shall more comfort me that God finds me 
strong ; then it shall not grieve me to be pressed 
with a heavy affliction.’ ” 

“ I have chosen this subject to-night, ” he con* 
tinued, “ to stay and strengthen my own heart, 
and to prepare yours for a painful announcement 
I have been asked to make to you.” 

Here Urban6 broke down, and it was several 
minutes before he recovered himself. He then 
resumed, with a trembling voice : “ It may not have 


PAIN AND SORROW. 


251 


attracted your notice that some of our number are 
absent to-night. I have spent nearly the whole 
day in a house of such mourning as is rarely wit- 
nessed in this world. Those lovely children of our 
beloved brother, Antiochus ; they are all gone ! ” 

A murmur of surprise and sorrow fell from 
every lip. 

“ The tragical and awful side of the story re- 
mains to be told,” continued Urban6. “ It is so 
painful that I tell it reluctantly. The poor mother 
administered the wrong medicine last night, and 
this morning found them sleeping that sleep from 
which ther6 will be no waking till the morning of 
the resurrection. I need not ask you to pray for 
those aching hearts.” 

“ Oh, how can they bear it ! It will kill them 
all ! ” cried a weeping voice. 

“ Claudia and Antiochus are very quiet,” re- 
plied Urbane. “ They are like little weaned chil- 
dren, and forget themselves in their sympathy with 
Junia, whose sorrow is awfully intensified by self- 
reproach. She is in a very critical state, and her 
physician says she will sink unless she sheds tears. 
But, thus far, her grief is stony and despairing.” 

It is needless to add that many a tearful prayer 
went up that night for the afflicted, sorely-smitten 
household, or that, as the news spread abroad, 
many who knew not Junia, entered into her sorrow 


252 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

as only sanctified hearts can enter. The whole 
city was moved, and every Christian man, woman 
and child in it “ went and told Jesus.” 

This is one of the charms belonging to the house- 
hold of faith. Each member of the family makes 
the cause of his brother his own. The sanctified 
heart loves its neighbor as itself, and is one with 
him in his sorrows, so fulfilling the law of Christ. 





CHAPTER XX. 


JUNIA AGAIN. 



|ER tragical story is no fiction. No one 
has a right to invent such harrowing 
tales to move human hearts. We shall 
have to drop a veil, for a season, over a 
grief that is too sacred to be intermeddled with, 
but years later we may venture to step noiselessly 
into Claudia’s room, whose name, it will be re- 
membered, is “ Peace,” and talk with her of the 
past. 

She is older, her hair is whiter now, but her 
hands are busy with some work of mercy. 

“Yes,” she says, “it watf very dreadful. My 
poor Junia ! But God has been very good to us ; 
He always is to the troubled. For a long, Jpng 
time Junia did not shed a tear. We trembled for 
her reason. But one day, Antiochus, who had 
kept up, for her s ke, came upon a little row of 
empty shoes, that, as it afterwards appeared, one 

(^ 53 ) 


254 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

of the servants had ranged against the wall of the 
nursery, hoping this touching sight might unseal 
the locked fountain of the mother’s breaking heart 
For a moment it completely unmanned him, and 
he went down to Junia, hid his face in her lap, and 
cried his heart out there. Then her tears burst 
forth in torrents. She shed so many that a new 
alarm sprang up ; we began to fear she would 
wear herself out in the tempest. It was piteous to 
see her stony, and silent, and sad ; but it was 
piteous to see such floods of weeping.” 

There is the sound of some one groping at the 
door; Claudia hastens to open it and lead in a pale, 
wasted form. It is Junia; she does not see us; 
she is blind. “ Yes,” as she says, “ she has cried her 
eyes out ! ” 

But though there are signs of the battle-field in 
her face and figure ; though her visage is marred 
and its beauty gone, there is a new light in it. She 
has found Christ, in her bitter sorrow, as she never 
found Him in the day of prosperity, and she is 
not afraid to say so. She has “ the oil of joy for 
mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of 
heaviness.” 

“ Mother, dear,’’ she says, “they have almost all 
come ; had we not better go down, now ? ” 

They go and we follow. What do we see ? The 
parlors Junia once took such pride in adorning, 


JUNIA AGAIN. 


'255 


are opened now to a little company, each with a 
Bible in her hand. Junia has nothing in her hand ; 
her Bible is in her heart. Now that she has lost / 
her eyes, she has become a great student. A faith- 
ful attendant reads to her, day by day, from the 
Sacred Book ; she ponders and prays over it, and 
gathers her friends about her, and tells them her 
thoughts. How they love her ! How sweetly 
and beautifully she expounds the truth ! How she 
talks about Christ, and His love and sympathy, till 
tears gather in their eyes, and they go home re- 
solved to follow Him as she follows Him, and know 
Him in the serene joy with which she knows Him ! 

May we pity her? May we say we are sorry 
for her ? No ; we may envy her, for she is forever 
at rest. When she went down to the very depths 
of the sea of life, she found treasures there, beside 
which “ no mention shall be made of coral or of 
pearls, for the price of wisdom is above rubies/’ 

“ There is a path which no fowl knoweth, and 
which the vulture’s eye hath not seen ; the lion’s 
whelps have not trodden it, nor the fierce lion 
passed by it.” But the fearless foot of a woman 
has climbed to that path, and what she has found 
there “ cannot be gotten for gold, neither shall 
silver be weighed for the price thereof.” 

Let us listen to what she is saying about it. 

“ Dear friends, never think of God as a vindictive 


2$6 URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 

Being. We often oblige Him to afflict us, but He 
never does it save in love. He knows that we shall 
never find true and lasting happiness save in Him- 
self, and He tries, in every possible method, to 
convince us of this. But we are refractory, or we 
are stupid, or our eyes are dazzled by some spark- 
ling earthly object, and we refuse to believe what 
He says. Then there is nothing left for Him to 
do but to take away whatever blinds or deludes 
us. No earthly friend would have the courage ; 
but God is as courageous as He is loving, and we 
shall bless Him for it throughout eternity.” 

Thrice happy Junia ! “ Dying, behold you live ; 

you are chastened, and not killed ; sorrowful, yet 
always rejoicing ; poor (in spirit), and making many 
rich ; having nothing, and yet possessing ail 
things;” what more can heart desire than to be 
able to say, as you can say, 

“ Christ liveth in me.” 



CHAPTER XXI. 

HELVIA. 

E must now retrace our steps and glance 
at Helvia. When we last saw her, she 
had passed through a great temptation, 
by the grace of God had wrenched her 
heart off from its object, and come out into the 
clear daylight of His countenance. And in her 
love and enthusiasm she means to fly to heathen 
lands, to preach Christ as she fancies she cannot do 
at home. Is she right? 

Claudia .was in her usual place, and very busy, 
when after an eager knock, and her own, “ come 
in,” Helvia entered with a firm footstep and an 
animated face. After an affectionate welcome, 
Claudia looked at Helvia with a questioning 
smile. 

“ I have come to tell you all my plans,” was the 
reply. “ It is so nice to have you for a friend, 
because you can always give me a morning when 
I want it.” 



(* 57 ) 


258 urban£ and his friends. 

Yes, Claudia always could, because she always 
would ; that was the whole secret of her apparent 
leisure. 

“ Well, my dear,” she said. 

“ You know, — no, you don’t know, but it is true, 
I have very special reasons for loving Christ.” 

“ We all have ‘ special reasons/ ” said Claudia, 
as Helvia paused here. 

“ Well, mine are very special, and I want to do a 
very special work. And my father has quite con- 
sented to let me sail for India in the autumn. There 
is such opportunity for woman’s work there, among 
those gentle, much-abused Hindoo wives. I shall 
get access to them at first through fancy work, of 
which, it is said, they are fond, and then I shall 
talk to them about Christ, and I know I shall make 
them love Him.” 

So saying, Helvia took from a little basket on 
her arm, various specimens of fine needle-work, 
and exhibited them in a bright, artless way. 

“ Isn’t it nice that I’m naturally skillful with my 
hands ? ” she said. “ It will give me such chances 
with those poor women ! ” 

“Dear Helvia,’’ said Claudia, “do you consider 
that your going on a mission would involve neglect 
of another important one ? ” 

“You mean to father? Yes, I have thought of 
that. But l have his full consent.” 


HELVIA. 


259 


“ No doubt. But you leave him, just as he is 
entering - on advancing years, to the care of stran- 
gers. Strangers will minister to his last wants, and 
close his dying eyes.” 

“ I have thought of that, too. But father is held in 
such love and reverence by his people, that he would 
not suffer for want of tender services in his last 
hours. Dear Claudia, you are the last person to 
throw cold water on Christian service.” 

“ Perhaps so. But you are the child of Urbane’s 
old age, and in the natural order of things, he will 
go home to his reward, while you are still young 
enough to become a missionary.” 

“ But suppose he should live to be very aged? ” 

“ He would need you all the more.” 

Helvia looked down, and was silent. It is hard 
to the young to fail of the sympathy for which they 
are eager. 

At last she said, “ If any man come to me, and 
hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and chil- 
dren, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own 
life also, he cannot be my disciple ! ” 

“Yes, dear, those are the words of our blessed 
Lord, it is true, and very strong and impressive 
language it is, too. But try to look at the case 
impartially. What would you say if Antiochus 
should persuade Junia to go with him to a foreign 
land, and leave me, at my age, alone? ” 


260 urbane and his friends. 

“ The eases are different. You are a woman, and 
need protection.” 

“ But your father is a man, and needs love, and 
only a relative can give that. I know of nothing 
more helpless than an old man living among people 
who take care of him for hire. God answered my 
prayer when he took my husband first. I could do 
without him, but he could not do* without me. It 
would have been very dreadful to go and leave him 
to be nursed, in his declining years, and last illness, 
by any hands but mine. A woman can attach her- 
self to other women ; as she grows old she can make 
sons and daughters out of her young friends ; she has 
a score of ways in which to find recreation and 
pleasure. But take an aged man whose working 
days are over, and shut him up to his books and 
his loneliness, and you furnish a sad spectacle 
indeed.” 

“ Father is never sad. He loves Christ too well/ 

“ I am speaking of the time when bodily infirmi- 
ty may require feminine service. You surely 
would not give him in charge of a man ? ” 

“ Why not ? ” 

“ For the same reason that you would not choose 
a man to take charge of a little child.” 

“ Are old people so helpless ? I had not thought 
of that. Father requires no care now, and it did 
not occur to me that he ever would need attentions 


HELVIA. 


26l 

that ought to have love, not money, in them. But 
1 confess you have put things before me in quite a 
new light. Well, a bright dream is dispelled, that 
is all ! ” 

“ It is a great thing to learn to accept a very in 
significant place in God’s kingdom. Holy ambi 
tion to do great things for Him is very natural. 
But since you make a mother of me, Helvia, I 
ought to act like one. And I have long been pray- 
ing that you might not be deluded into neglecting 
one duty for the sake of another.” 

“ I did so want to be a blessing to many, many 
many souls ! ” 

“ And why may you not ? Is a foreign field the 
only one in which one can work ? ” 

“ I had such a fancy for this particular field,” 
said Helvia, regretfully. 

“Ah, but we have to give up our fancies, and do 
what God pleases. And you can find any number 
of useful occupations, if you love Christ, and are 
always on the lookout for them.” 

“ I do love Him ! I love Him so that I hoped 
He would trust me to go and talk about Him to — 
oh, I don’t know how many people ! ” 

“ Well, are there not heathens in our own land ? ” 

“ Yes, there are, and I’ll go on a mission to 
them!” said Helvia, brightening. “ I don’t know 
how I ever came to think of such a thing as leaving 


202 


URBANE and his friends. 


my father ; especially after all he has been through/* 

“Yes, he has been unusually bereaved. Un- 
usually,” 

“And hasn’t he borne his sorrows nobly? I 
don’t believe that even you, Claudia, know what 
he has gone through.” 

“ No one can perfectly read the heart of another,” 
said Claudia, thoughtfully. “ But I know, only too 
well, what he lost in your mother. And you are 
very like her, Helvia, and may be an inexpressible 
comfort to him. I hope nothing but death will 
part you two.” 

“ Claudia,” said Helvia, abruptly, “ I have not 
told you the whole truth. Perhaps you would ad- 
vise me differently if jou knew all. Will you 
never, never, never betray me if I tell you my 
heart? ” 

Claudia only smiled in reply. 

“ Excuse me,” said Helvia. “ I ought not to talk 
to you as if you were a school-girl. Well, one rea- 
son why I want to go to India, is to avoid tempta- 
tion here at home. I have resisted it once, but it 
may recur.” 

“ Faith is better than cowardly flight,” said 
Claudia. “ If you put yourself right into Christ’s 
hands, He will take care of you, especially when in 
the path of duty. You might escape this particular 
danger by running away from it, but it seems to 


HELVIA. 2©3 

me you would be safer and happier if you would 
run into Christ’s arms.” 

“ I have done that,” said Helvia, earnestly, “ and 
He has taken me and kept me.” 

“ And He will go on doing it.” 

“ Will you pray that He may?” 

“ Yes ; every day.” 

“ Perhaps I ought to tell you what my tempta- 
tion has been. Two years ago, visiting at the 
house of a friend, I was thrown into the society of a 
young man who I never dreamed could inspire me 
with affection for him, because he was not a Chris- 
tian. He had noble traits of character, however, 
and attractive ones ; before we knew it, we loved 
each other. Oh, what a bitter, bitter moment it 
was when I found myself loving a human being 
more than I loved Christ! ” 

“You did not love him more than you loved 
Christ?” said Claudia, solemnly. 

“ Yes, I did. For a whole year I never put on a 
glove, or fastened a shoe without reference to his 
taste in the matter ; I was completely swallowed 
up in him. But when he proposed marriage, I 
refused him.” 

“Why?” 

“ Dear Claudia, you know why. I could not marry 
a man who did not love Christ. Still, there was the 
temptation. He said he did not want to have a 


264 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

worldly wife, that he honored me for ray religion, 
that he had wealth with which I could do good to 
my heart’s content, that he never would interfere 
with my plans of life — oh, I don’t know what he 
did not say ! But I never owned to him that I 
loved him; he does not know it; but though I 
have torn him out of my heart, he is there still ; 
should we be thrown together again, I might waver. 
Now you have the outlines of the whole story. 
Do you still say, stay at home?” 

“ Yes, dear child, I still say it. You love Christ 
better than you love this friend, better than you 
love yourself; you may be further tempted, but 
you will not fall. It would not surprise me if the 
stand you have taken for your Lord, should lead 
to a gracious work in the soul that has had such a 
hold upon yours.” 

“ Whether he ever becomes anything more to me 
or not, I do pray for his salvation,” replied Helvia. 
“ But I never meet him if I can help it, and he little 
knows what he has cost me.” 

“ He has cost you much, but has he not brought 
you, also, great gain? ” 

‘ Yes, he has. I never felt my feet so firmly 
planted on the Rock of Ages, as I do now.” 

Helvia walked slowly home, pondering over 
what had passed. “ Father promised me my 
thousands,” she said to herself, “and how am I to 


HELVIA. 265 

reach them, _f I give up this long-cherished plan? 
But I zvill give it up.” 

She went straight to the study, and found her 
father there. 

“ Are you at leisure ? Can I have a little talk with 
you ? ” she asked. 

“ Always at leisure for you, my precious child,” 
said Urbane. 

“ I have been telling Claudia about my plan,” 
she said, “ and she thinks I should do wrong to go 
and leave you, and has made me think so too.” 

“ But I have given my full consent, dear Helvia, 
and it was a cheerful consent too. We really need 
only one thing to make us happy. And I have that • 
and no man can take it from me.” 

“ But the time will come when you will need my 
care. Because you never have needed it, it did not 
occur to me that this would not always be the case.” 

“ I shall not live to be a very aged man,” was the 
reply. “ Your mission work would only be defer- 
red, not relinquished. I think, myself, that if you 
are willing to do it, you may wisely stay to see the 
last of me,” he added, with a smile. 

“You will be very glad to go when the time 
comes.” 

“ Very glad. Meanwhile I am very glad to stay 
in the harness, and hope I shall die in it.” 

Helvia smiled. She was courageous, and death 
12 


266 


urban£ and his friends. 


did not look terrible to her. She could look far 
beyond it. 

She fell back, now, into the quiet routine of do- 
mestic and social life, and, to the ordinary eye, ap- 
peared to be little more than a good daughter and 
pleasant friend. But every day she was growing 
stronger in the Lord and in the power of His 
might. Certain sharp features of her very fine 
character disappeared, and gentler graces shone out. 
Urban6 never had had such comfort in her as now. 

But she never went to India. She used to say, 
playfully, years later, that she had too many little 
Hindoos of her own to go to foreign lands to look 
for work. And these Hindoos cost her a great 
deal, and taught her a great deal ; and in training 
them, and enduring all the suffering and self-denial 
incident to bearing and educating a household of 
children, she learned lessons that sank deeply into 
her thoughtful mind. She was not herself permitted 
to win the thousands of souls she had longed for, but 
through her sons she won them. It is enough for 
a woman to be a Christian, a wife, and a mother ; 
in each sphere she may glorify her Lord and Mas- 
ter, and if perfect in these relations, she is just as 
dear to Him as her more accomplished, apparently 
more favored sister. It is the duty and the high 
privilege of some women to stand almost, if not 
quite, on the walls of Zion ; but she who is not 


HELVIA. 


267 


called to such eminence, should not, therefore, 
despise her own modest task. God bless mothers, 
especially young mothers, who are in the thick of the 
affray. They are ashamed to rank their daily diffi- 
culties, disappointments, fatigues, and responsibili- 
ties where they ought to rank, or carry these trivia* 
details to Christ. But that which helps to form 
character, is not trival in His sight, and these innu- 
merable battle-fields are under His loving charge. 



CHAPTER XXII. 

PEACE AND JOY. 

EPEATED allusions have been made/ 
said Urban6, “ to peace in believing 
and joy in the Holy Ghost, but I wish tc 
dwell upon them more specifically this 
evening. I have tried to point out to you the paths 
that lead to this rest and delight of the soul, and 
now let me add a few words to those already 
spoken. I believe in a faith that keeps the soul in 
habitual rest, month after month, year after year. 
And it is no mere negative, but a real, positive 
experience, casting a softened sunlight over the 
whole landscape of life.” 

“But we surely see eminently holy persons suf- 
fer, and suffer keenly,” said Amplias. 

“ True. But unless their relation to God and to 
Christ is changed, peace in believing is still undis- 
turbed. Take, as an illustration, the case of a hus- 
band and wife, who are united to each other by the 
most endearing ties. They are robbed, by death, 

(2,68) 



PEACE AND JOY. 


269 


of a beloved child, and their hearts bleed at every 
pore. But does this disturb their love to, or their 
faith and rest in, each other? Does it not, on the 
contrary, unite them more closely than ever ?” 

“ But we see care-worn faces in the church of 
Christ, as we do out of it.” 

“ Not in those who cast all their care upon God, 
as He permits them to do. At this moment, I 
recall many and many a face, which has acquired 
an expression of sweet repose, not natural to it, and 
this is the outward shining of the Guest within. 
Christ bids us come to Him for rest, and He means 
come / tow. The spirit of His teachings is not- — Be 
weary and heavy-laden all your lives, and do not ex- 
pect any better lot here on earth. He says, 4 Come 
unto Me and I will give you rest.’ ‘7’ will give it, 
not, heaven will give it.” 

“ Is not this rest spoken of in the fourth chapter 
of Hebrews ? ” asked Claudia. 

“Yes; both Christ’s rest upon earth and that 
which 1 remaineth for the people of God.’ ” 

“ I thought the heavenly rest was alluded to 
there,” said Apelles, “and that alone.” 

“ The apostle says, ‘ we that believe do enter into 
rest,' not we shall never enter into it until death.” 

Claudia repeated the lines : 

“ The soul that on Jesus hath leaned for repose, 

He will not, He will not desert to His foes." 


270 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“All hell will endeavor to shake it,” said Phil 
ologus, “ but will not prevail.” 

“ But look, now, at some of the saints in the 
Bible,” said Amplias. “ Look at David, for in- 
stance. Was he at peace when indulging in gross 
sin ? ” 

“ Of course not. He was ‘ giving place to the 
devil/ and was, therefore, not in the ‘ green pas- 
tures,’ or beside the ‘ still waters ’ of a pure con- 
science,” said Philologus. 

“This subject of religious peace and joy,” said 
Urbane, “ is, I fear, but little understood. Let us 
approach it with reverence, but without timidity. 
Deep, constant, soul- satisfying delight in God and 
the Lord Jesus Christ is not only the privilege of 
every believer, in every age, but the whole history 
of the Church is illustrated by glorious tokens of 
its presence and power. No description of human 
bliss begins to compare with the language of the 
saints, whose hearts have glowed with this holy 
passion, both in life and in death. Let me read to 
you the testimony of one of them : 

Dear Sister : — Were I to adopt the figurative language of 
Banyan, I might date this letter from the land of Beulah, of 
which I have been for some weeks the happy inhabitant. The 
celestial city is full in my view. Its glories beam upon me ; its 
breezes fan me ; its odors are wafted to me ; its sounds strike 
upon my ears, and its spirit is breathed into my heart. Nothing 
separates me from it but the river of death, which now appears 


PEACE AND JOY. 


271 


but as an insignificant rill, that may be crossed at a single step, 
whenever God shall give permission. The Sun of Righteousness 
has been gradually drawing nearer and nearer, appearing larger 
and brighter as He approached, and now He fills the whole 
hemisphere, pouring forth a flood 4 glory, in which I seem to 
float like an insect in the beams of the sun ; exulting, yet almost 
trembling, while I gaze on this excessive brightness, and won 
dering, with unutterable wonder, why God should deign thus to 
shine upon a sinful worm. A single heart and a single tongue 
seem altogether inadequate to my wants ; I want a whole heart 
for every separate emotion, and a whole tongue to express that 
emotion. 

But, why do I speak of myself and my feelings ? Why not 
speak only of our God and Redeemer ? It is because I know 
not what to say. When I would speak of them, my words are 
all swallowed up. I can only tell you what effects their presence 
produces, and even of these I can tell you but very little. O, my 
sister, my sister ! could you but know what awaits the Christian ; 
could you know only so much as I know, you could not refrain 
from rejoicing, and even leaping for joy. Labors, trials, troubles, 
would be nothing; you would rejoice in affliction and glory in 
tribulations ; and, like Paul and Silas, sing God’s praises in the 
darkest night, and in the deepest dungeon. You have known a 
little of my trials and conflicts, and know that they have been 
neither few nor small ; and 1 hope this glorious termination of 
them will serve to strengthen your faith and elevate your hope. 

And now, my dear, dear sister, farewell. Hold on your 
Christian course but a few days longer, and you will meet in 
heaven, 

Your happy and affectionate brother, 

Edward Payson. 

Some of you are aware that this is the language of 
a man whose physical sufferings it was agonizing 
to witness.” 

Urbane closed the volume from which he had 


272 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

been reading, and sat down. Silence fell upon 
the whole company, which was at last broken by 
Apelles. 

“ Do you think such revelations come to all 
Christians ? ” 

“ I fear not. Christ cannot thus reveal Himself, 
save to the beloved disciple.” 

“And how are such revelations received ? ” asked 
Amplias. 

“ Let the author of this very letter answer for 
me : 4 He (the Christian) shrinks back involuntarily, 
as if the spotless Saviour would be contaminated 
by his touch ; sinks down, ashamed and broken- 
hearted, at His feet; feels unworthy and unable to 
look up ; and the more condescendingly Christ 
stoops to embrace him, so much lower and lower 
he sinks in the dust.’ ” 

“ What do you conceive to be the characteristic 
of the beloved disciple that so attracted, and still 
attracts, the Divine eye ? ” asked Apelles. 

“ Love ; personal, deep-seated, intense love.” 

“ Then the joy of which you have read to us is 
not given arbitrarily, but is the natural response 
of Love to love?” 

<• It is.” 

“ I begin to understand now why David ‘ danced 
before the Lord.’ Such joy in God must be trans- 
porting. May one ask it, specifically, from God ? ” 


PEACE AND JOY. 


273 


“ I think not. It is not found in seeking self, Out 
in going out of self to seek Christ. But, 011 the 
other hand, it is not necessary to suppress the 
instinctive desire for rest and peace and joy, which 
exists in the soul, unless it becomes inordinate. 
Nowhere in the Bible do we hear such passionate 
cides for the gifts of God, as are uttered by the 
spirit that is athirst for God , for the living God. 
‘As the hart panteth after the water -brook, so 
panteth my soul after Thee, O God.’ ‘ With my 
soul I have desired Thee.’ ‘ O, that I knew where 
I might find Him ! That I might come even to 
His seat ! ’ 1 My soul waiteth for the Lord more 

than they that watch for the morning.’ ” 

“Are you satisfied that the expressions of joy we 
sometimes meet with in religious biography are 
not exaggerations ? ” 

“ Perfectly so. Nor do I wonder at the difficulty 
found to depict, in human language, a joy so great 
and full of glory. Let us recall, however, some 
of the attempts made in Scripture to do so : ‘ In 
Thy presence is fulness of joy.’ 4 Thou shalt make 
them drink of the river of Thy pleasures,’ or, as 
it may be rendered, ‘ They shall be saturated, as 
a thirsty field, by showers from heaven.’ ‘ Thou 
shalt be like a watered garden, and like a spring of 
water, whose waters fail not.’ ‘ My meditation of 
Him shall be sweet : I will be glad in the Lord.' 

12* 


274 URBANfi AND HIS FRIENDS. 

4 The Lord is my strength and song.’ ‘ The peace 
of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep 
your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus.’ ‘ I 
sat down under his shadow with great delight, and 
his fruit was sweet to my taste.’ ‘ I will go to God, 
my exceeding joy,’ or, ‘ the gladness of my joy.’ 

‘ My lips shall greatly rejoice when I sing unto 
Thee.’ ‘ I will greatly rejoice in the Lord ; my soul 
shall be joyful in my God.’ ‘ Thy saints shout for 
joy.’ ‘ O, come,’ etc. But I might go on all day, 
and not exhaust the subject.” 

“ Of course we must accept the language of 
Scripture, but I have always listened dubiously to 
expressions of religious joy from ordinary Chris- 
tians,” said one. 

“ ‘ Ordinary Christians ’ know very little of the 
deep, absorbing, sacred experience to which I am 
calling your attention. I make no reference to 
mere pious frames. They are not to be trusted in ; 
they may proceed from earthly sources, and be 
followed by sinful tempers and acts that prove 
their origin to have been false. The delight in 
God which I am describing is profound and lasting, 
not merely emotive and transient.” 

“ How are we to distinguish between the two?” 

' “ It is not always possible to do so. Bat we may 

be guided in many cases by our knowledge of the 
character of him who professes to feel the joy. If 


PEACE AND JOY. 


275 


he is young, and inexperienced, and superficial, he 
had best maintain a discreet silence. We have also 
a right to doubt high- wrought claims to religious 
fervor where we see no corresponding holiness. 
There are certain worthy persons who injure the 
cause of Christ by reporting every new frame they 
experience before it has been put to the test of 
time and temptation. If a man be habitually iras- 
cible, for instance, or is in any way, however trivial, 
* regarding iniquity in his heart,’ the less he says 
about his seasons of enjoyment the better. On the 
other hand, he who is ‘ alive in Christ,’ may find it 
a duty to declare what great things God hath done 
for his soul.” 

“ Indiscriminately ? ” asked Amplias. 

“ Plutarch says : 4 If you possess a treasure your 
friend does not, you should not tell him of it. But 
if telling him puts him into the way of gaining it, 
it is your duty to proclaim it.’ But the Psalmist 
says he will tell his story to those who fear God, 
and that the ‘ humble will hear thereof, and be glad.* 
He alone who fears God can understand the lan- 
guage of an exulting soul. To believe in the deep 
experience of another, one must have had more or 
less experience in kind. If one has not, he will be 
skeptical on the subject, and listen, perhaps, with 
sneers.” 

“ Do you think gratitude demands that one 


276 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

should tell what God does for him ? ’ asked 
Helvia. 

“ In the right time and place it certainly does.” 

“ But will not nine out of ten attempt to prove 
that he is deceived, that he is a mere enthusiast, 
and the like ? ” 

“ Not nine out of ten warm-hearted, earnest be- 
lievers. Ihey know too much to doubt a real 
experience.” 

“ But does not the opposition of even good peo- 
ple almost amount to persecution? ” 

“ It does. Perhaps a man never is exposed to such 
rough treatment in his life, as when he tries mod- 
estly, humbly, and lovingly to tell what God has 
done for him, what Christ has become to his soul. It 
often grows, indeed, out of pure misunderstanding. 
He is supposed to be a proud boaster, when, in fact, 
the pride is perhaps altogether on the side of his 
opponent. St. Augustine says, 4 Praise the sweet- 
ness of honey to the utmost, he who has never 
tasted it cannot understand it.’ I want to warn 
you all against suspicion of those who bring grapes 
of Eshcol from the promised land. They only ex- 
hibit specimens of fruit that grows there in abund- 
ance ; they only speak of the milk and honey that 
flow through it ; let them stimulate you to enter, 
and pluck, and eat for yourselves. Christ is every- 
thing He is described to be by His most ardent 


PEACE AND JOY. 2 77 

lovers; yea, far more, for are we not told that joy 
in Him is ‘ unspeakable ? ’ ” 

“ Religion has never given me any real happiness, 
nor does it seem to do it for any save a favored 
few,” said Apelles. 

“ It is said, ‘ the ways of holiness are never truly 
sweet till they be thoroughly embraced/ And this 
is true. Christ can make no warm response to a 
cold heart.” 

“ But what of a man of phlegmatic temperament 
who is never warm on any subject?” 

“ Christ can infuse life into dry bones, and 
warmth into stones. Some persons fancy that 
those who express joy in Him are of peculiar tem- 
perament, and that ecstacy is for the few. This is 
a mistake. He is King over temperament as over 
all things. But I have something more to read.” 

“ Now we are upon the subject, may I ask a 
question first. Would 'you not prefer to judge a 
man by his life rather than hear his testimony ? Or, 
if he gives testimony, would it not be less offensive 
if he should give it unconsciously ? ” asked Amplias. 

“ It depends on who and what the man is. I cer- 
tainly do prefer unconscious admission into the 
souls of most persons.” 

“ I was once reading a little German story to 
some children,” said Helvia, “ which furnishes an 
llustration. A bear came and spent his winter eve- 


278 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


nings with two little sisters who never knew what an 
uncommon bear he was, till one morning, as he was 
going out, a piece of his fur was torn off on a nail, 
and through the rent thus made, they learned that 
under his skin he was made of pure gold. It is 
pleasant to have friends who are better than they 
seem ; to see the Lord’s name on their foreheads 
when they see it not.” 

“You will have no fault to find with what I am 
now about to give you,” said Urban6 : “After a 
Season of spiritual conflict with Satan, Mr. William 
Janeway / wept for a long time, in an extraordinary 
manner, though little subject to such emotions, and 
then broke forth in the language of impassioned 
exclamation : f Oh, son ! now it is come, it is come, 
it is come. I bless God I can die ; the Spirit of 
God hath witnessed with my spirit that I am His 
child. Now 1 can look upon God as my dear 
Father, and Christ as my Redeemer ; I can now 
say this is my Friend, and this is my Beloved ! My 
heart is full ; it is brim full ; I can hold no more. I 
know now what that sentence means, The peace of 
God which passeth all understanding. I know now 
what that white stone is, whereon a new name is 
written which none know but they who have it. 
And that, fit of weeping which you saw in me, was 
a fit of overpowering love and joy, so great, that I 
could not for my heart contain myself ; neither can 


PEACE AND JOY. 


279 


I express what glorious discoveries God has made 
of Himself to me. And had that joy been greater, 
I question* if I could have borne it, and whether it 
would not have separated soul and body. Bless 
the Lord, O my soul, and all that is wdthin me, 
oless His holy name. . . Oh, now I can die, it is 
nothing ; I bless God I can die. I desire to be 
dissolved and be with Christ.’ 

“ Of another of this family, his biographer writes : 
* I once hid myself in his solitary room, to learn 
the reason of his retiredness, and take the more ex- 
act notice of the intercourse which I judged was 
kept up between him and God. But oh! what a 
spectacle did I see ! Surely a man walking with 
God, conversing intimately with his Maker, and 
maintaining a holy familiarity with the great Jeho- 
vah. What a glorious sight it was ! Methinks I see 
him still. How sweetly did his face shine ! with 
what a lovely countenance did he walk up and 
down ; his lips going, his body oft reaching up, as 
if he would have taken his flight into heaven ; his 
looks, smiles, and every motion, spake him to be 
upon the very confines of glory. Oh, had one but 
known what he was then feeding on ! Sure he had 
meat to eat which the world knew not of ! Did we 
but know how welcome God made him when He 
brought him into His banqueting house. That 
?vhich one might easily perceive his heart to be 


280 


urban£ and his friends. 


most fixed upon, was the infinite love of God in 
Christ to the poor, lost sons and daughters of 
Adam. What else meant his high expressions? 
1 God,’ said he, 1 holds mine eyes most upon His 
goodness, and the promises which are most sure 
and firm in Christ. His love to us is greater, surer, 
fuller, than ours to ourselves. For when we loved 
ourselves so as to destroy ourselves, He loved us so 
as to save us.’ He entered the Christian ministry at 
the age of twenty-two, but only lived to preach 
two sermons. As he approached his dying hour, 
he said, ‘ I do so long to be with Christ, that I could 
be content to be cut in pieces, and put to the most 
exquisite torments, so I might but die and be with 
Christ. Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Death, 
do thy work. Death hath lost its terribleness. 
Death ; it is nothing. I say death is nothing, 
through grace, to me ; I can as easily die as shut my 
eyes, or turn my head and sleep ; I long to be with 
Christ: I long to die.’ The biographer goes on to 
say, ‘ I verily believe that it exceeds the highest 
rhetoric to set out to the life what this heavenly crea- 
ture did there deliver. I say again, I want words 
to speak, and so did he, for he said things unutter- 
able ; but yet, so much he spake as justly drew the 
admiration of all that saw him ; and I heard an old, 
experienced minister say it again and again, that he 
never saw, nor read, nor heard the like. He talked 


PEACE AND JOY. 


281 

rs if he had been in the third heaven. About eight 
and forty hours before his death, and when the 
symptoms of death were upon him, h'is joys were, 
if possible, greater still. He had so many fits of 
joy unspeakable, that he seemed to be in one con- 
tinued act of seraphic love and praise. O, what en- 
couragement did he give to them which did stand 
by, to follow hard after God, and to follow Christ 
in a humble, believing, zealous course of life ! . . . 
And every one must speak God’s praise, or else 
they did make some jar in his harmony. And 
indeed most did, as they could, help him in praise ; 
so that I never heard nor knew any more praise to 
God in one room, than in his chamber.’ 

“ Robert Hall, in a brief preface to John Janeway’s 
life, says : ‘ 1 am aware that some will object to the 
strain of devout ecstacy which characterized the 
sentiments and language of Mr. Jane way, in his 
dying moments ; but I am persuaded they will 
meet with nothing, however ecstatic and elevated, 
but what corresponds to the dictates of Scripture, 
and the analogy of faith. He who recollects that 
the Scriptures speak of a peace which passeth all un- 
derstanding, and of a joy mispeakable and full of glory, 
will not be offended at the lively expressions of 
those contained in this narrative ; he will be more 
disposed to lament the low state of his own relig- 
ious feeling, than to suspect the propriety of senti* 


2 82 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


ment the most rational and Scriptural, merely 
because they rise to a pitch that he has never 
reached. The sacred oracles afford no countenance 
to the supposition that devotional feelings are to be 
condemned as visionary and enthusiastic, merely 
on account of their intenseness and elevation ; pro- 
vided they be of the right kind, and spring from 
legitimate sources, they never teach us to expect 
they can be carried too far. David danced before the 
Lord with all his might , and when he was reproach- 
ed for degrading himself before the people, by in- 
dulging these transports, he replied, If this be to 
be vile, I will yet make myself more vile l 

“ Mr. Hall goes on to remark that the experience 
of Mr. Janeway is not to be considered as a stand- 
ard to ordinary Christians, and that the extraordi- 
nary devotion of his life met with its just reward, 
since he which soweth bomitifully shall reap also boun- 
tifully. It is an interesting fact that Mr. Janeway 
reproached himself on his death-bed for having 
lived too active a life. This proves that he had 
been no mere pious enthusiast, but a diligent labor- 
er in the Master’s vineyard. Now, my dear young 
friends, if you long for such joys as those of these 
saints, you must sow bountifully as they did. Such 
seraphic hours must be the result of much prosaic, 
persistent, laborious work and study in the school 
of life. They are the fruits of the Spirit ; but the 


PEACE AND JOY. 


283 


hand that would pluck them must not be that of an 
idler, strolling by the wayside, but of one who has 
patiently climbed to heights far out of sight, and 
breathed, before reaching it, the atmosphere of 
heaven itself." 

“And do you wish to stimulate us by this night’s 
readings ! ’’ asked Apelles. 

“ I do ; making due allowance for depressing phys- 
ical and other special causes, I maintain that he who 
does not sometimes find real joy in his God and 
Saviour, and abide in daily peace with Him, is 
living in some sin, or cherishing some idol that 
hides the light of life that is always shining, and 
always ready to let its beams warm and vivify the 
believing soul." 

“ Such language is enough to drive one to des- 
pair ! " said Apelles. 

“ It is intended only to encourage. Oftentimes 
a sincere soul only needs to have the obstacles in 
its way pointed out in order to remove them with 
his own hand. If you earnestly desire holiness and 
happiness, you will be only too thankful for sug- 
gestions such as have just been made. I certainly 
do not suppose that any of you are living in con- 
scious, wilful sin, or indulging yourselves in known 
idolatry, while yet, at the same time, seeking for 
sanctification as the great boon of life." 

" Is this joy, of which you have spoken, the fruit 




284 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

of an untroubled sense of personal safety ? ” asked 
Amplias. 

“ It is rather the result of a nearness to Christ 
that enables one to see Him as He is. The testi- 
mony of President Edwards is that of every ma- 
ture Christian, when he says: ‘The sweetest joys 
and delights I have experienced have not been 
those that have arisen from the hope of my own 
good estate, but in a direct view of the glorious 
things of the Gospel.’ ” 

“ I have always been a little suspicious of death- 
bed experiences,” said one. “ Why should there 
be special raptures then ? ” 

“ I have called your attention,” was the reply, 
“ to a sanctifying work of the Spirit that is the 
beginning of rapid, healthful growth in grace, and 
of a happiness that cannot be exaggerated. But 
the soul thus sanctified and purified, is not mature 
in holiness, and the moment of maturity is generally 
that preceding death. To use the illustration of 
another, the shock of wheat is gathered in as soon 
as it is perfectly ripe. Therefore the joy of the 
ripe Christian will naturally culminate during his 
last hours on earth, and be very much akin to that 
on which he is about to enter.” 

“ But he may have peace and joy long before he 
comes to his death-bed,” said Antiochus. 

“Yes,” said Hermes; “peace that flows like a 


PEACE AND JOY. 285 

*iver, intermingled with joy never before con- 
ceived of.” 

“ There are some in this room,” continued Ur- 
bane, <4 who cannot speak in public, but are not 
silent because they have nothing to say, or because 
they do not know what this joy of the Lord is, or 
because they are ashamed to confess Christ before 
men. Seek them out, and talk with them in pri- 
vate. They will all tell you that they have had 
views of Christ that were soul-satisfying, and, at 
times, almost overwhelming, and this without the 
slightest thought of self or regard to their estate 
before Him. To those who have had no such 
experiences, they are in danger of appearing mere 
enthusiasts, while they will be affectionately recog- 
nized? and believed in by those who have had ever 
so little.” 

“ But do not many saintly persons die without 
any of the revelations, during their last hours, of 
which you have spoken ? ” was asked. 

“ This is unquestionably the case. The character 
of almost every form of fatal disease is such as to 
overmaster the soul ; we ought not to expect the 
shout of triumph to be frequent amid scenes of dis- 
solution. G.>U knows just when, and how often, 
to call forth dying testimony; but His chief wit- 
nesses testify of Him during life, and while in pos- 
session of a certain degree of health.” 


286 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


“ Besides,” said Philologus, “ record is more 
likely to be made of a man’s last utterances than 
those made earlier. I do not doubt that as great 
joy as that of Janeway on his death-bed, is some- 
times experienced long before the final hour.” 

“ I can say amen to every word you have ut- 
tered,” said Urban6, “ and there are several in this 
room who can do the same, as there are, I do not 
doubt, thousands elsewhere. They have not had 
to wait for a death-bed to introduce them to a 
world of light, and love, and peace, and joy un- 
speakable offered by our Lord to every one of His 
followers. There is not a verity on earth more 
true than this, that he who, abiding in Christ, lives 
and walks with God, is alone truly happy, and that 
the closer the walk, the happier he will be. Is it 
not so, dear Hermes? Have you not found it so, 
Antiochus ? ” 

“ If I begin to talk, I am afraid I shall keep you 
here all night,” said Antiochus. 

The genial smile on the face of Hermes was 
answer enough ; he could not trust himself to 
speak. 

There was not a man or woman there who did 
not go home that night to pray. And during the 
months that followed, one after another received 
the blessing Urbane so earnestly sought for them. 
And so diverse are the operations of the Spirit, 


PEACE AND JOY. 


287 

that while som p received it after seeking it long 
and carefully, and with tears, it same to others 
through simple, child-like acknowledgment that it 
was wanted. “ Gladness and singleness of heart * 
came into many a home; Christian love and sweet 
fellowship made the “ communion of saints,” and 
hundreds of unregenerate souls were brought 
into the kingdom. This is no creation of a dis- 
rdered fancy. Let Christ’s disciples consecrate 
themselves to Him as He commands and urges 
them to do, and live and work for Him as He 
lived, and worked, and prayed, and died for them, 
and the bright morning of the millennial day 
will dawn, and the sons and daughters o c earth 
will walk it in the beauty of holiness, and ^nd it 
Paradise regained. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 

LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 

(TO G. E. S.) 

New Bedford, Dec. 5, 1847. 

WAS a good deal interested in your last 
letter, and wished I could see you and 
have an old-fashioned talk with you on its 
main points. My mind was at that time 
clouded, and I could not see things aright. I believe 
it was clouded more by self-will than by ignorance, 
however. I was determined to believe that God de- 
manded nothing from me but active piety such as you 
described ; but I have thought and prayed till I have 
come to feel , as well as to see, that the action and the 
contemplation should go hand in hand — the one 
being kept in health and vigor by the other. Is it 
not so ? If my present circumstances demand ac- 
tion, where is the grace to come from which shall 
make action holy ? 

I do not know how it is with others, but with me, 

nothing will regulate my outward life but an inner 
(288) 



LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 289 


life of contemplation, prayer, and devotion. For this, 
one must have time, and where is the time to come 
from amid the distractions of household cares, or 
such pressing duties as your profession involves ? It 
must be a thing of possible attainment, or God would 
not make us so dependent upon it. I do not know 
who needs time for recollection, thought, and prayer 
more than a young mother does — but who finds less 
of it? You have doubtless heard your wife lament 
seeking all day, perhaps without finding it till she is 
tired out at night, leisure for retirement ; and it is 
poor comfort to a soul hungering and thirsting after 
communion with Heaven, to be assured that God 
accepts faithful maternal labor and patience in place 
of prayer, because the answer comes back, “ But 
where shall I gain faith and patience for these la- 
bors ? ” However, the praying heart will find means 
to seek and find God, in the midst of obstacles. I, 
for one, am not trying to find excuses for myself. I 
have a strong desire to know what to aim at and 
what other Christians think and believe. 


(TO G. E. S.) 

New York, October 17, 1853. 

I would fain speak a word of comfort to you, 
but I feel smitten myself by this unexpected 

13 


290 urban£ and his friends. 

blow which has fallen upon us, as it has upon 
you, like a thunderbolt.* A week ago, at this 
hour, Louise and I went together to the Crystal 
Palace. Never had I such a shock; not even the 
one day’s dreadful illness of my dying baby, was as 
distressing. We were all utterly unprepared for it ; 
Mr. P. was away ; above all we felt the pain you had 
in store for you. How gladly would I now bring 
you here to see how peaceful, how placid is her rest. 
But this trial is added to your affliction, you can see 
her face no more; but what a step of time there is 
to pass over before you will see it transfigured in 
heaven ! I have not time to tell you many little 
things you will feel interested to hear ; and as I sup- 
pose you will come on, and come right to the spot 
she has just left, I can then tell you. Never was 
a kinder physician than Dr. M. You could not your- 
self have been more tender, more gentle and sympa- 
thizing, and holy thoughts gushed from his lips so 
spontaneously that Louise said again and again and 
again, “Oh, how good he is! How I love to hear 
him talk ! What a comfort to have such a doctor ! ” 
Her patience was very remarkable and touching. I 
never saw a sick person so gentle, so considerate, so 
little disposed to think of self. 

Hosts of kind friends are here, offering to do every- 


* See “ The Life and Letters of Elizabeth Prentiss,” p. 139. 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 29 1 

thing that can be done. How greatly she was be- 
loved ! For myself I shall feel her loss keenly when 
I come to myself, but now I am perfectly stunned 
and like one in a dream. Dear child ! how can I be- 
lieve that she is gone ! A week ago this day I over- 
heard her praying audibly in her room ; after which, 
while dressing to go out, she sang in a clear voice, 
and continued to sing all the way down-stairs and 
till the street-door closed after her. I thought I had 
never heard her sing more joyously or sweetly. I 
doubt if she ever was able to kneel again. A week 
ago on Sunday we sat together for the last time 
at our Lord’s table, and the whole evening we sang 
hymns together, among others, “Jerusalem, my 
happy home.” But she sits at a higher table now 
and joins in sweeter songs. 

I telegraphed to Mr. Prentiss, and think' he will be 
here early to-morrow morning. Dr. Skinner will 
conduct the services ; and the choir she loved will 
sing one of her favorite hymns. Her scholars will 
all be here. 

Give my love to F. and the dear little girls, and 
believe me yours in true affection and sympathy. 

Nov. 1, 1853. I was very sorry not to see Dr. S., 
who called with your letter, but I am in quarantine , 
and cut off from all the world. A week ago yester- 
day my dear little A. was suddenly and furiously 


292 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

seized with all poor L.’s symptoms ; but having just 
been vaccinated, she had the disease in a mild form, 
and was confined to her bed a few days only. She is 
still quite feeble and delicate, but I hope safely 
through the worst of it. To us it has been an anx- 
ious season, coming so in the midst of our grief and 
amazement in regard to poor L. For you see, I can- 
not, more than you, help saying, “ poor ” L.; and yet 
I reproach myself for it a hundred times a day, and 
say, “ Rich , blessed Louise ! ” I can neither think or 
talk of anything else ; it seems to me that since that 
dreadful moment when I knelt by her on the bed, 
ready to whisper, “ Dear L., you are going home ! ” 
and found she did not recognize, did not hear me, 
I have lived months of consternation and sorrow — I 
might almost say years. 

Her sudden death seems such a mystery; I ask 
myself over and over, Is it not, after all, a delusion 
of my imagination? Everything she said and did I 
keep turning over and over in my mind ; this I do 
all day and all night ; I dream of her, at least all of 
the night I spend in sleep, for Annie’s illness leaves 
me not too much for that. As to the care of her, I 
never can tell how thankful I feel to God for having 
given me the privilege. My only regret is that I had 
not time to do a thousandfold more for her. 

During her illness I was correcting the proof-sheets 
of a little book, “ Little Susy’s Six Birthdays and 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 


29S 


on the Friday evening before her death, she sat in a 
little easy-chair by my side, and read one after an- 
other, as I threw it down corrected. This was her 
last reading, and it will therefore interest you ; I will 
send you a copy of the book as soon as it comes 
out, as well as one to the children, which she her- 
self would have sent had she lived ; but they may 
safely regard it as her last gift to them, and I know 
will value it for her sake as well as for mine. 


(TO MISS E. S. G.) 

Willi amstown, July 1, 1863. 

I agree with you in thinking that “ writing does 
not quite take the place of talking”; but writing 
is better than nothing, and I was very glad to 
get your letter. What a nice long talk we would 
have if you could run up here into my room this 
pleasant morning! I am sure you need country 
air and rest, and that a good deal of your despond- 
ency is the result of more or less poor health. 
You must not expect too much “peaceable fruit” 
from what you are suffering. You know the promise 
is that that shall come “ afterward .” You have re- 
ceived as great a shock as a tree does in transplant- 
ing. If the tree lives through the transition, and 


294 


urban£ and his friends. 


after a time puts forth leaves and blossoms, the 
gardener is satisfied. 

And then the fact that other people — your sisters 
for example — find heaven nearer than you do, does 
not prove anything against you, dear child. Why 
should not your piety be individual? You need not 
look exactly like your sisters in order to be a true 
woman, nor feel exactly like them in order to be as 
true a Christian. Very likely, you have experiences 
they would be glad to enjoy. I think we are spared 
much needless suffering when we learn to cease copy- 
ing our fellow-men, and look solely to Christ as our 
pattern. You place a picture before a company of 
artists ; they all make copies, but no two are pre- 
cisely alike. You see the “style ” of each in his work. 

You are troubled because you “ seldom feel any 
wish to die.” Now, is it really any sign of grace to 
have that wish ? Life is one of God’s gifts ; have we 
any right to despise it ? Is not this the true atti- 
tude : “ to be neither fond of life or weary of it ” ? If 
your dear Master should come and say to you, “ My 
child, your work on earth is done, enter now into the 
joy of your Lord,” don’t you think you would soon 
adjust yourself to this new dispensation and rise joy- 
fully to follow Him ? But He is really speaking to 
you in quite a different way, and bidding you to live, 
and not die ; and what you have to do is to render 
cheerful obedience. I never have regarded the eager 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 295 

longing to depart and be with Christ so strong a 
proof of love to Him as being willing to live and 
suffer away from Him. I had for many years such a 
delight in the prospect of heaven as a refuge from 
sin, that my desire to die was insatiable. But I have 
got over it. Must I then conclude that I love my 
Saviour less and hate sin less? I trust not. 

The rest of your letter might have been copied out 
of my journal, provided I kept one at your age. 
How the heart of man answereth to the heart of 
man ! But ought we to expect or wish to be satisfied 
with our present attainments? Isn’t it good for us 
when we are ashamed of ourselves, if we are suf- 
ficiently so to be in earnest about confessing our 
shortcomings and sins, and trying to forsake them ? 
It may be that some souls, especially favored of God, 
do leap at a bound, as it were, into such union with 
Him as shall make them at once saintly and holy. 
But with most of us the process is different. We 
totter, and stumble, and fall ; we are wayward, and 
fitful, and capricious ; what we gain one day we lose 
the next ; if we grow at all, it is so slowly that we can’t 
see any progress, and when we at last verge towards 
the end, and see heaven opening to welcome us in, 
we are speechless with amazement at the mercy of 
our God, and that He has led our halting, childish 
footsteps with such matchless forbearance towards 
such a reward. But I hope I am not virtually say- 


296 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


ing* “ Never mind if you are fitful and spasmodic.” I 
do not mean to say so. Surely, when God makes us 
dissatisfied with ourselves, and full of longings for a 
closer walk with Himself, it is because He is willing to 
hear us ask for limitless blessings ; and he who asks 
does receive. Don’t let us be discouraged because 
we cannot always feel Him near, and because we are 
dull, and cold, and formal. He does not change be- 
cause we do ; and every little fluctuation of feeling 
on our part is not really change. A thousand influ- 
ences affect us : states of health, states of sorrow and 
trial, states of suspense and anxiety do ; and probably 
will till we are full-grown saints, if not longer. After 
the shock of your bereavement is over, and your mind 
becomes calmer and more settled, I do not doubt you 
will draw nearer to Christ than you ever have done. 
The love you gave your dear father is now thrown 
back upon your hands; you will give that to your 
Saviour. And you know you are not toiling up- 
hill towards Him alone and unaided. He looks on 
you with the tenderest sympathy, and wills your 
sanctification. If you were here now we would pray 
together that that will might speedily be done in us 
both. But as this cannot be, we must pray it apart, 
day and night, at home and abroad, till His kingdom 
come. If I could give you just what I would, and 
just what you would most wish to have, I would give 
you such a love to Christ as should quickly chase 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 29 7 

away all your despondency, and make this earth a 
heaven below. But if I, who am only a friend, would 
give you this, what reason is there to doubt that Jesus 
is willing to grant you such a gift ? I do want to 
say something to cheer and comfort you. How often 
and often I have longed for Christian cheer myself ! 
But I do not know that I have said one right word. 
I believe, however, “ in the communion of saints ” (if 
you and I are not saints, we want to be !), and that 
it is profitable to speak together of divine things, even 
when our sayings are not much to the purpose. I 
think we can both say that there is nothing we so 
heartily desire as the presence and blessing of Christ ; 
that we have known no joy to be compared with the 
joy of communing with Him, and that our hourly 
prayer is : 

‘‘Nearer, my God, to Thee, nearer to Thee, 

E’en though a cross it he that raiseth me.” 

And knowing this, we can afford to wait with pa- 
tience for the perfect day. 

I do not know how soon we shall go home. Per- 
haps Mr. P. will come and take us home some 
time next week. I am dreading the Fourth among 
these noisy students very much. I am glad to hear 
that your dear mother is not completely broken 
down. You all need her more than ever. It is 
wonderful through what straits God can lead His 

13* 


298 urban£ and his friends. 

children. I hope the changes you speak of will not 
take you away from New York. I am interrupted, 
and must finish this. Good-bye. 


(TO THE REV. J. H. H.) 

New York, June 7, 1870. 

Your letter has just come, and I am glad to rest 
my weary limbs by sitting down to answer it. This 
is our last day in town, and I have found the pack- 
ing and doing up last things less congenial work 
than my favorite one of writing. 

I have been painfully struck of late years, in our 
various country resorts, with the barren state of the 
churches, and you seem to have fallen on such a field. 
It will take great faith and much personal holiness to 
make a real impression on such a community. But 
personal influence is a wonderful power, and I believe 
increasingly in prayer. We may not be permitted to 
see the fruit of either ; but the fruit is borne, all the 
same. It is such a blessed thing to live for Christ ! 
How much is involved in those three little words ! 

You speak of “soul-entrancing views of Christ.” 
Do you think we ever get such views when distinctly 
seeking them ? I think it is a great conquest over 
ourselves when we are patient in the want of them. 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 


299 

It is working without asking for wages, in a spirit of 
sweet and simple obedience. And when the wages do 
unexpectedly come, how marvellously opulent they 
are ! I have just been reading an article in the April 
number of Bibliotheca Sacra , entitled “ Psychology 
in the Life, Work and Teaching of Jesus,” in which 
the writer takes the ground that the language used 
concerning Him in the Bible is no less than the lan- 
guage of passionate affection . The strongest love of 
lovers cannot exceed “ all the heart and soul and mind 
and strength.” I had just said this to a dear friend, 
and was glad to be strengthened in my conviction 
by this article. The world may and will sneer at such 
talk, but Jesus has a right to the very best there is in 
us, and I believe He may be loved with an intensity 
that throws all other affections and passions into the 
shade. Then when we see His image ever so faintly 
in another soul, we catch eagerly even that fragment 
and make much of it. I think we may form some 
idea of how dearly we do love Him, in spite of our 
human weaknesses and follies, by the peculiar affec- 
tion we feel for those who are at all like Him, never 
stopping to ask whether they are high or low, rich or 
poor, learned or ignorant. 

I thank you for the lines you sent me ; they are 
very sweet. I should be tempted to send you some- 
thing in return, but everything is deep in one or an- 
other of my trunks. It will give me sincere pleasure 


300 urban£ and his friends. 

to hear from you again, if you ever feel like writing 
on the subject so dear to us. I care for little else. 


(TO A YOUNG FRIEND.) 

New York, October , 1870. 

In thinkirig over our last interrupted conversation, 
I find my judgment a good deal biassed by my wishes. 

. . . . Missionaries are sorely needed, and I have 
wished I had a son or a daughter to give in that 
way to God. It is a question of great importance 
and has so many sides, that«i, for one, would rather 
pray than talk much over it. At the same time you 
may depend on my sympathy in whatever step you 
finally decide to take, and I believe God will direct 
you. Surely you and I have known precious mo- 
ments when from the bottom of our hearts we could 
say, 

“Jesus, I my cross have taken. 

All to leave and follow Thee,” 

and He can make this the habitual temper. There 
are times when the problem how to live in the world, 
yet not of it, almost maddens me, and when for 
my own soul’s sake I long for a narrow, prescribed 
path of duty. No doubt you, too, have felt this. 
It is beautiful to think that whether you go or 
stay, you will have the best thing life can offer 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 


301 


— usefulness, the throne of grace, the witness of the 
Spirit with your spirit; “Your country in every 
clime.” I am glad, from your quoting Cecil, to 
know that you have one of my favorite authors. 


(TO A YOUNG FRIEND.) 

New York, April 11, 1872. 

You must excuse my asking you to tell me what 
troubled you. I know there are burdens on every 
human heart that must be borne in silence, and 
only whispered of to God ; things perplexing, con- 
fused, wearisome, and not to be understood by any 
other heart. What a mercy that we can tell every- 
thing to Him; that we need make no explanation, 
but just tell our sorrowful story over and over, get- 
ting, sooner or later, His loving or forgiving sympa- 
thy, as the case may be ! What should we do without 
Him ? I shudder at the thought. I feel very thank- 
ful that some of your clouds have lifted, and hope 

the sun will shine brightly through I had a 

most interesting conversation yesterday with a Chris- 
tian lady, older and more experienced than myself, 
and who had enjoyed for years and years what she 
thought settled peace. But she too has been going 
through a very humiliating experience during the 
past year. She thinks that God is thus crucifying us 


302 


URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 


to self. I certainly would rather be in this valley of 
humiliation than be puffed up with spiritual pride, or 
rest content with the shallow piety that seeks heaven 
on flowery beds of ease. Do not be discouraged by 
these experiences of old Christians. Christ is worth 
all He costs. I never felt it more strongly. Mere de- 
light in Him, sweet as it is, is not to be our pursuit 
on earth. Let us go on seeking Him if it leads to 
death itself, and spare neither the right hand or the 
right eye when they offend us. How I should love 
to have a talk and a walk or a row with you, as I re- 
call those of the past ! When I began I was only 
going to write a line in acknowledgment of your last 
letter, but the fact is I am an everlasting scribbler. 


(TO G. E. S.) 

New York, March 25, 1872. 

No subject lies so near my heart, as that of which 
you speak in your letter. I have had a very unusual 
experience of religious peace for many years ; most 
of the time since the crisis I passed through just be- 
fore we met. Yet there was always something to 
reach after, and I never, for a moment, could have 
borne to hear myself spoken of as holy ; I knew I 
was not. Nor have I ever liked to hear any one claim 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 303 

to be wholly sanctified, or described by others as such. 
My idea, drawn from the word of God, was this: 
that Christ could and would come and dwell in the 
soul that sought Him, and, once established there, 
would crowd out, by degrees, the old man with his 

affections and lusts This is as far as I have 

got. I am conscious that self is not yet dead and 
gone ; that though Christ liveth in me, something 
that disputes His entire dominion lives there too. I 
have read and re-read the books that treat on this 
subject, and cannot believe in that instantaneous 
sanctification that looks so plausible, but which thus 
far I have vainly sought on my knees and in my 
Bible. I am old-fashioned, and perhaps not up to 
modern times. Yet I am regarded by some as an ex- 
tremist and an enthusiast and a devotee. I do not 
think a Christian can be guilty of wilful sin and be 
at peace. Peace is for those who hate sin with per- 
fect hatred, and would cut off their right hand at any 
moment if that hand reached eagerly forth for a for- 
bidden object. I think inadvertent transgressions, in- 
stantly repented of and forsaken, need not disturb 
one’s peace ; if one is walking uprightly before God, 
with a supreme, conscious desire to know and do His 

will, he ought not to waste his time over every little 

* 

stumble, but accept the humiliation of his error, and 
go right on, “ looking unto Jesus.” If Paul needed 
a thorn in the flesh, why should not we? I am 


304 


urban£ and his friends. 


afraid there is a great tendency at present to read the 
Bible in detached passages, rather than as a whole. 
At any rate, during rather more than a year, I have 
been buffeted by a messenger of Satan in a way that 
I never knew anything about before. What the end 
of it is going to be I don’t know, but it has given me 
a sympathy with the tempted and sorely afflicted 
that has led me to make them the subject of special 
prayer.* I have not said much about this new and 
painful experience, lest it should discourage others, 
and am trying to bear it in patience. God deals 
with no two of us alike, and this baptism of fire may 
consume that self of which I so long to be rid. The 
new lights say that all this is obsolete, that you have 
only to believe yourself holy and you are holy. But 
while praying for light on all these obscure points, I 
do not get it so as to see what they see, or think they 
see. Now tell me where I differ from you, and what 
you have learned that I do not know. Christ is just 
as real to me as any human friend, and I hope it is 
not presumption to say I have loved Him far better 
than any human being. But I love myself, and love 
to have other people love me ; this is, and always 
has been, one of my besetting sins, and if there is 
any royal way of getting rid of it, I shall be thank- 
ful to learn that way. 


* See “The Life and Letters of Elizabeth Prentiss,” p. 3614 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 


305 


I have friends who say I need to take one step 
more, but they talk in a vague way, and cannot 

make me understand what they mean Hard 

as I have found it to bear the spiritual assaults of 
the last year, I have often thanked my wise and kind 
Physician that He did not allow me to enjoy the 
outward advantages and successes so lavished upon 
me. Anything but a full cup of earthly felicity, and 
to be let alone to drink it ! 

My dear cousin, excuse this long letter. I write 
confidentially, and out of a full heart. You have 
been a great blessing to me ; I have loved you in 
and for Christ, and always shall; and I entreat you 
to pray for me every day, that I may be kept from 
error and sin, and united more and more closely to 
my Lord. I think if I knew I should never say or 
do or feel or think anything sinful, I should be too 
happy to live. I certainly should not fear anything 
man could do unto me. Do not answer this letter 
till you can do it conveniently. True Christian 
friendship, like ours, knows no impatience at delay. 
At the same time, Christian sympathy is a very pre- 
cious thing. I write more to ask your prayers than 
to tax you to write. 

I hope you will be prospered in your labors of love 
for all those babies, whom I should like to see. Shall 
we ever meet on earth, think ? 


306 


urban£ and his friends. 


(TO THE SAME.) 

New York, May 23 , 1872 . 

Your last letter shows me that we believe pretty 
much alike. I knew, for years, the sweetest peace 
and rest, with periods of joy that was almost 
insupportable. At the same time I never thought 
myself sinless. I only knew that I had a perfect 
Saviour, and the instant I fell into inadvertent 
sin, I asked Him to forgive me, and He did. If 
you will excuse my quoting from myself, let me give 
you four lines that described my experience for I 
know not how many years : 

Oh, where are words to tell the joy unpriced, 

Of the rich heart, that breasting waves no more. 
Drifts thus to shore, 

Laden with peace, and tending unto Christ ! 

But whether I was exalted by the abundance of 
revel itions, or whatever else might be the reason, I 
was suddenly cast down from heaven to hell — yes, 
to he 11 ; for the loss of the Presence, in which I had 
lived so long, is nothing less ; and I have been in 
this valley of humiliation eighteen months, or some- 
where near that, and it has been precisely like that 
described by Bunyan. I used to preach, in season 
and oat of season, the doctrine that anybody could 
live in perfect peace ; but now I have come to an .ex- 
perience wholly new, and I know other Christians in 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 


307 


the same condition Now you may never 

need and so never have such an awful affliction, but 
as I have learned it through personal experience, I 
cannot doubt that God has permitted it for some wise, 
some kind reason, for which I shall bless Him in the 
next life, if I never know enough to do it in this. As 
He could not severely hurt me by taking away any 
beloved earthly object, since if He were left, enough 
would be left to make life perfectly sweet, He has 
come nearer, and inflicted blows of tenfold severity. 
Madame Guy on had nearly seven years of such 
desolation, and it completed the work God was re- 
solved to do in her. You quote the passage, “ Count 
it all joy,” etc. ; but temptation as used there, means 
tribulation. We cannot think of our Lord as enjoy- 
ing Himself when 11 driven” into the wilderness to be 
tempted of the devil, and I think the fact that angels 
afterwards ministered to Him shows that He was 
exhausted by the conflict with the tempter. Cer- 
tainly I could not have endured, in my youth, the 
anguish of the last months. 

May 3, 1873. — The fact that our Saviour was de- 
serted, or thought Himself deserted, seems to me to 
imply that we too are liable to the same discipline. 
And it may be that I shall yet come to see that this 
period of new and most painful conflict, has been 
one of sharp temptation, rather than of sin. At any 


308 urbane and iiis friends. 

rate, we both know and love the Lord J esus better than 
any earthly friend, and He will keep us, blessed be 
His name ! .... I cannot help hoping your faith 
will yet raise that building; but there are times in 
our lives when we have to hold on by our eyelids. I 
wish I could send you a million of bricks myself, but 
I can’t. 

I had a talk with Mrs. the other day. She 

said I was aiming too high, trying to be as perfect as 
God is. But is not this the Scriptural command? 
Whatever I aim at, I am far enough below, at any 
rate. 


(TO A YOUNG FRIEND.) 

New York, October i, 1872. 

The principle of love is better than the mere emo- 
tion of it. If I did not believe this, I should often 
be unhappy about my relations to my God and 
Saviour. Earthly friends delight me, ensnare me, at 
times ; I can be conscious of a warmer glow of affec- 
tion for them than for Him. But when it comes to 
choosing between them and Him, ah! then the true 
love comes out ; weeps, shudders, perhaps, but stands 
forth in definite form and shape, thanking God for 
itself! .... No doubt, as you come to know me bet- 
ter, you will find lots of faults to regret, and perhaps 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 


309 


you will get sick of me. But, unless we find it impos- 
sible to keep on good terms with each other, let us 
start afresh, trusting in God, and maintaining perfect 
honesty as we have always done. I do not see how 
two praying souls (in the sense in which I use the 
word praying) can get very far apart, or very long 
apart. They will meet, though an ocean rolls between 
them, on their knees before God. On that sacred spot 
they will whisper each other’s names, make confession 
when confession is called for, in His ear, and finally 
be more closely and tenderly united than ever. If, 
after a misunderstanding, this is not the case, one or 
both (excuse false syntax) needs a deeper work of 
grace in the soul. Is it possible for two persons so 
affectionate, so sensitive, so high-strung, so horrified 
at the thought of any intrusion on the other, to form 
an intimate friendship without getting some scars on 

the road ? I doubt it I have often spoken of 

points of resemblance in our characters, of under- 
standing you through myself. But we are very differ- 
ent in other directions, and I have an experience of 
life you have not. I have an advantage over you, 
too, in my age. I have reached a point where, no 
matter what it costs me, I can bear with caprice, and 
never so much as allude to it. I have some young 
friends who profess the utmost devotion to me, but 
their youth makes them exigeante , and if they don’t 
get what they give, they take airs upon themselves, 


3io 


urban£ and his friends. 


and turn a cold shoulder to me for weeks and weeks 
at a time. I ask no questions and make no allusion to 
this. When they get sweet and loving again, I take 
them back, and they probably think I have been ob- 
tuse enough not to be wounded by their defection. 
But I was as sensitive to these caprices as any girl, 
only I have learned a little mite of patience and 
charity. If you should not write to me for six 
months, and then start out lovingly again, I should 
seem not to know there had been that six months. 
But there would be an unwritten history in them. 
My heart can sink like lead. It has ten thousand 
times, and will ten thousand times more. I can't 
stand alone. Many and many a human being has 
power to make me tremble like a leaf. G. is read- 
ing the “ Comedy of Errors ”• to the other children. I 
have to spend most of my evenings in reading aloud, 
to save A.'s eyes, and am glad to get off to-night, 
so as to relieve my heart by writing. Well, good- 
night. 


(TO MRS. C. H. L.) 

Dorset, June 22, 1873. 

It was kind in you to let me know of your illness. 
Few things endear our friends to us as confidence 
in our sympathy does. I have had you much on 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 311 

my mind since Miss H.’s note came, marvelling at 
God’s dealings with you. How large a part of your 
life has been spent under the rod ! But He says 
the rod means love ; and so it does.* What would 
tempt you to be given over to the “ furnace of pros- 
perity”? The Lord can, and I trust He will, make 
your sick-bed sweet to you. How I should love 
to go to it every day ! I spend a good deal of time 
in sick-rooms. I feel at home in them. 

Just now we are not under the rod. God seems 
to be trying to overwhelm us with mercies. Our 
house on Sixty-first street, near the Central Park, — 
a part of which we are happy in being indebted to 
you for, one of our oldest and best friends, — is very 
convenient. Then our house here is delightful ; 
simple and plain, and yet pretty as a picture. Mr. 
P. has only just arrived, and everything looks new 
and pleasant to him ; he came in a moment ago 
from a little walk, and gave me a tremendous kiss, 

as an expression of his content Undeserved 

mercies they all are, as far as I am concerned ; I can’t 
understand it. A. has not yet come, but the other 
children are as happy as the day is long, laughing and 
singing and working in their gardens. I think it silly 
in mothers to boast much about their children in a 
world where the tables may turn any day, and I do 

* “For whom the Lord loveth, He chasteneth, and scourg- 
eth every son whom He receiveth ” (Heb. xii. 6). 


312 


urban£ and his friends. 


rejoice over these precious ones with trembling; but 
they certainly are wonderfully good children. 

I told Mr. P. I was writing to you, and he said 
I must give to you his love ; and added that he 
wished you were coming here this summer. I sup- 
pose it is not to be thought of. How you would 
scream with delight at some of my rustic adorn- 
ments here ! and how I should enjoy hearing you ! I 
hope you may get really well by being taken in hand 
and obliged to rest, and then who knows what may 
happen ? Please thank your friend for writing me, 
and if there is any change in your symptoms ask her, 
or some one, to write again. I wish I knew more par- 
ticularly just how you are. I love you very dearly 
for your own sake, and very dearly for His sake to 
whom you have given the dearest friend you had. 

July 13, 1874. We came to Dorset a month ago, 
and Mr. P. has improved a good deal since that time, 
but still suffers from nervousness and troubled sleep, 
owing to inability to take vigorous exercise. His 
wound has not yet healed, but is doing well. He 

says he will write you in a few days A lady 

wrote and asked me if my husband’s illness was 
not a time of great religious enjoyment? Of course 
she never had a husband ! Peaceable fruits are not 
to be expected till “ afterward.” I feel, I trust, 
gratitude for the life spared ; at the same time I am 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 3 1 3 

sure that Christ is enough for any human soul, and 
no earthly thing is absolutely essential to happiness, 
if one has Him. How thankful I am that you know 
this! The children are all well and happy, and M. 
the sunshine of the house, authority as to time, assist- 
ant-surgeon, assistant-gardener, assistant-laugher. I 
have had some wild azaleas set out near the house, 
and lots of beautiful roses are now in bloom. My 
only honeysuckle is an inch high and came by mail. 
But it is time for me to go to bed, and I will. 


(TO MRS. A. B. H.) 

New York, April 27, 1877. 

I have only just received your address ; other- 
wise I should have answered your letter sooner. I 
am glad you found anything to like in Urban£; 
I have heard very little from it. My friend Miss 
, reproached me for not having preached per- 
fection in it ; but I told her I could not find perfec- 
tion in the Bible, had never seen it in my life, and 
had observed that those who claimed that they had 
attained it, usually ended by running into spiritualism 
or antinomianism, and made shipwreck of their faith. 
One who assured me he had not sinned for twenty- 
five years, talked and behaved (in the one interview 

14 


314 urban£ AND HIS- FRIENDS. 

I had with him) in such a manner that for days I 

was so staggered I could not pray If this had 

been a common man I should not have been so upset ; 
but he was a leader in the church and had been a 
great light. 

Others say that mistakes are not sins ; and that to 
have a revengeful spirit is a mistake ; nothing more. 

Miss , arguing in favor of this doctrine, said she 

once prayed all the time from breakfast to dinner, to 
be kept from ill-temper in an encounter she was to 
have at that time, and a miracle was wrought for her. 
This, to my mind, is an argument against, not for the 
doctrine. Perfection ought not to need such a strug- 
gle. And any number of us can point to such in- 
stances in our lives. Of course God keeps us when we 
have time to look to Him, but most of our tempta- 
tions are subtle, or come upon us so unexpectedly and 
suddenly that we fall before we know it. I should be 
horror-stricken if I were going to encounter an angry 
servant and could not rely on God to keep my temper 
for me through the siege ; but I don’t call that being 
perfect, and the fact is I do lose my temper when 
taken unawares. I had a perfectionist in my house a 
month, during which, though she rose hours before 
breakfast, she never once came to prayers, thereby 
bidding defiance to our habits as a family. The idea 
appeared to be that she could not join in confession 
of sins. 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 3 1 5 

But that we may be kept from wilful sin I do not 
doubt. 

When I was writing Urban£, I read it to Mr. P., 
as I do all my books, and when I came to one 
of the experiences there described, I told him it was 
my own ; he was greatly stirred and interested, as I 
had never spoken of it before. While I was writing 
that book Satan plagued my life out of me ; I thought 
I had got beyond conflict and was drifting sweetly 
into port. But, dear me ! how little I knew what a 
price one who would fain be useful, has to pay for the 
privilege. 

I asked my husband about the lecture you speak 
of, and he says he has no recollection of it, and can 
find no notes. But if it had been all written out, 
neither you or I, or anybody else, could read it. He 
has taken to extempore preaching of late, and I have 
never liked any of his sermons better. I miss him 
as my pastor in everything. We had grown into 
one faith during thirty years. 


(A little volume filled with passing thoughts, or hints, 
about the Christian life and God’s manner of dealing with 
souls, might be culled out of Mrs. Prentiss’ letters and occa- 
sional contributions to the religious press. The following 
may serve as specimens.) 

God reserves His best things to give His children 


3 16 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

when He has smitten them, just as we take out 
our treasures and let our sick children have them ; 
treasures we never let them touch when they are 
well. 

We are never so really in our right minds, as when 
driven right to the foot of the cross by the pressure 
of the inexorable hand of grief. All the illusions of 
life are then torn away, and we see Jesus as He is, 
so loving, so tender, so faithful ! 

Some persons misunderstand God’s dealings with 
souls ; they fancy that special training is to lead to 
special joy, when His only design is to prepare for 
work. 

You asked, in your letter, if I had been praying 
for you and yours. No, not regularly, but “whiles,” 
as the Spirit moves. I have tried to form the habit 
of praying each night for every soul I had come in 
contact with during the day ; but it is not as easy 
as it might seem, for there is a great deal else to 
pray about. 

To make prayer a power in the life, is to make it 
underlie, as its foundation, the whole structure. Let 
a young Christian once become convinced of this, 
and he is forever safe. He at once adjusts himself 
to this law of his spiritual nature, and presses every- 
thing into its service. Is it objected that this leads 


LETTERS TO CHRISTIAN FRIENDS. 


3 1 7 


to formalism? But who lives informally? Well 
aware that our bodies would perish if not duly and 
regularly cared for, we feed them with scrupulous 
fidelity, just so many times during the twenty-four 
hours, and lay them away to sleep with all the punc- 
tuality we can attain. Should the soul, destined to 
outlive this body as time to outlast eternity, fare so 
very differently at our hands? The simple fact is 
that just as our mortal bodies would starve and die 
if their proper supply of food were withheld, so our 
immortal souls cut off from spiritual nourishment 
that comes to us through prayer will inevitably and 
miserably perish. This being the case, set times and 
‘seasons become essential. He who prays only when 
he is perfectly at leisure, feels in the right mood for 
it, and finds in it a delight and a refreshment, will 
soon cease to pray at all. For prayer is not merely 
a desire for this or that spiritual or temporal good, 
expressed in an emergency, and silent when all goes 
well ; it is a hunger of the soul that forms a habit for 
itself that nothing can shake. 

LetThe habit of prayer be thoroughly formed, and 
it will change all a man’s views of life. He will ask 
less and less from the world and more from his God 
and Saviour. His closet will become to him the 
dearest spot on earth. If he is glad, he goes there 
to thank his Lord and Master for that gladness. If 


3 18 URBANE AND HIS FRIENDS. 

perplexed, he goes there for counsel ; if busy, for 
help in' his business; if lonely, he flies to it for 
sympathy ; if sorrowful, he knows that the Man of 
Sorrows can understand what he suffers as no mortal 
man can do. In other words, he has learned to “ feel 
the sweet urgency of prayer and to hunger after it.” 
And he who has learned this secret has learned what 
will thenceforth give tone to his whole life. 

There is a saying of this sort : “ Tell me who are a 
man’s companions and I will tell you what he is.” 
What should we expect, then, of the man who 
‘‘walks with God,” has made Him his most intimate 
friend, and whose views of life are all drawn from 
the highest intellect, and the largest heart, in all the 
universe? Such a man finds that he has a closet 
everywhere. That amid the bustle of the street, in 
the crowded public vehicle, in the scene of social 
festivity, he may hold familiar, blissful converse with 
God as a man talketh with his friend ! To say that 
he is happy, that he is blessed, that he possesses all 
things, is to express in very feeble language a truth 
whose beauty shall outlast the stars. 


One of the most charming books in religious literature." — H. Y. Observer 


The Life and Letters 

OF 

ELIZABETH PRENTISS, 

Author of “ Stepping Heavenward.” 

One voL, crown Svo, 575 pages, with steel portrait, 

and five fall-page illustrations. Cloth, $ 1 . 50 . 

In addition to the narrative the volume contains a copious selection 
from Mrs. Prentiss’ correspondence, especially on topics pertaining to 
the religious life and interesting personal reminiscences. 

H 


TESTIMONIALS FROM THE PRESS. 


Front the Interior. 

“These journals and letters being full of de- 
tails respecting herself, her home, her friends, 
the books she wrote, and of her religious 
thoughts and experiences reveal to us Mrs. 
Prentiss as sue was, ami gives us what we most 
wish to know about her. We learn from them 
the beautiful life she led, and its changing 
scenes, both on the natural and spiritual sides. 
These ami a simple yet attractive narrative, in- 
terspersed with personal reminiscences, and va- 
ried by a sketch of her father, the Rev. Dr. Ed- 
ward Payson, and passing notices of a few 
others who contributed moulding influences to 
her character, complete an attractive story. 

“ Thousands of Christian people who loved 
the unseen Mrs. Prentiss for her life werks, will 
read this charming memoir, not only with in- 
terest, but with great spiritual profit.” 

From the Nation. 

“ No one can read with indifference the story 
of 2 . life so singularly fortunate in its opportu- 
nities as that of Mrs. Prentiss, and no one can 
read without profit the record of her beautiful 
and untiring use ol those opportunities. She 
had a reality about her, a sense of the fitness of 
things which kept her alike from platitudes, and 
from morbid exaggerations. As,to plan and exe- 
cution, it is not too much to say it is faultless.’’ 

From the Christian Observer. 

“As we turn the pages of her life, each one 
with renewed interest and tenderness, we are 
yet never surprised ar.d never disappointed, for 
it is all in such perfect harmony with the wom- 
an we had learned to love ana admiri for the 

f lood she had done us by her own touching 
oving, tender words which came to us from 
time to time from her pen. It is one of those 
sterling, standard books which will be read for 
generations.” 

Front the Evangelist . 

“ No words she ever wrote could give strong- 
er impulse to a true Christian life.” 


From the Living Church. 

“ The secret of Mrs. Prentiss’ popularity was 
the keen grappling with life problems, and her 
homespun directness and yet elegance of style, 
bhe had an object in all that she wrote, and 
that object was to create a wholesome moral in- 
fluence, a definite, helpful, religious tone. It 
became the object of her life and manifested it- 
self not only i.n her published works, but iri her 
letters and personal ministries. The task is 
executed with admirable la-te and delicacy and 
the result is one of the most charming biogra 
phies of the year.” 

From the Christian Advocate. 

“ Letters sparkling with wit and sprightlt 
ness, mingled with grave thought and religious 
earnestness. It must have been a blessing t® 
have known her. as it is an inspiration to read 
of her lovely characteristics as a wife, mother, 
and friend.” 

From the Churchman. 

“A simple but thoughtful and nppreciativ® 
narrative, which will be prized by all those wh® 
have read Mrs. Prentiss’ books, and which 
would be extremely interesting even if her 
name had not become famous. 

“ The life described in their pages was hi 
many respects remarkable. The volume is a 
worthy tribute to a noble and saintly woman.” 

From the Christ i a n Intelligencer. 

“It is a genuine heart book, a faithful repro- 
duction ol the lights and shadow's of a Chris* 
tian home, and spiritual progress of a Christian 
mother and wife. It is one of the hooks that will 
long perpetuate themselves, as well as the mem- 
ory of those whose biography they record.” 

Frotn the Penn. College Monthly. 

% \Xi cic r."t commend the book too highfjr, 
for it is fraught with interest and heavenly 
teachings.” 

From the Churth Union . 

“No more delightful biography could b® 
found, nor one better treated.’’ 


Anson d. f. Randolph & co., 

3 8 West Twenty-third Street , New York* 

Sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of $1.50. Fractional amounts received in postage-s»- ** . 
A complete list of Mrs. Prentiss' Works will be found on the following pages. 

I 


THE 


Works of Elizabeth Prentiss. 

PUBLISHED BY 

ANSON D. F. FANDOLPH & CO., 38 west twenty-third street. 

New York. 


Stepping - Heavenward. Printed from 
new Stereotype Plates in 18S0. and chanc- 
ed by a brief sketch of the author. Cloth, 
12rno, 430 pages. $1.00. 

“ It is a story of the Life of Faith. w ith the 
•harm of naturalness aim human sympathy. 
This makes it acceptable as well as p ue, 
■trong, and helplul.” — hi. Y. Observer. 

Pemaquid. A Story of Old Times 
In New England. Cloth, 12mo, 370 pp. $l.;l 
“We regard it as ouo of her best books.’ 

— ~The Evangelist. 

The Home at Greylock. i2mo, cloth, 
338 pages. $1.50. 

“ As wholesome as it is entertaining, and 
conveys many instructive lessons in its grace- 
ful aiid flowing nari alive.”— Christian In- 
telligencer. 

Urbane and His Friends. Cloth, 

12nu\ ‘2S7 pages. $1.50. 

“Full ol kindly and genial counsel, marked 
by great tenderness and eimp'i.'.ity of spirit, 
and very earnest and helptal.” — Boston 
Journal. 

Aunt Jane’s Hero. Cloth, i2mo, 

800 pages. $1 50. 

“Aunt Jane's Hero is so like people we 
meet, that we are anxious to have them read 
the book, in order to profit by its teachings. 
We like it and believe others will.”— '1 he 
Advazice. 

The above fize volumes may also be had in 
ye set uniform in bindings in a box. Price ptr 
$7*75- 

Avis Benson ; or. Mine and Thine, 
with other Sketches. Cloth, 12mo, 275 
pages. $1.25. 

“ Incidents of common life wrought up iuio 
• series of interesting sketches, bearing the 
seal of good ta~te. inventive fancy, and rare 
practical wisdom.” — N. Y. Tribune. 

The Story Lizzie Told: And the 
Six Little Princesses, and what they turned 
Into. Kioto, cloth. Illustrated. 75 cents. 

“ Youngand old alike will read these stories 
Of little ones with pleasure and profit.” 

The Little Preacher, iomo, cloth, 

223 pages. $1.00. 

“A charming, loving, thoughtful book, in 
its style and in its lessons. We commend it 
gladly to old as well as to young readers. It 
Is rich in lessons of Divine Wisdom, a3 well 
as deeply interesting.” 

Gentleman Jim. 241110, doth, 100 

pages. 50 cents. 

“ It is a tale of humble life, relating the ex- 
periences of a working miner. lie was a trtl • 
hero in his way, leading a life of eelf-saenfle*, ! 
The story is well told, full of incident, and 
expressing m ire in its brief compass than is 
always found in writings of lar greater pre- 
W*iaion.”~;V Y. Tribune. 


Little Lou’s Sayings and Doing’s 

Large square 12mo, cloth, 287 pages. $1.5(1 
“ It is very bright and entertaining and wil 
afford genuine de ight to the boys and girls.' 
— The Congregaiionalist. 

Golden Houts. Hymns and Songs 
of the Christian Life. Cloth, square Ithno, 
red edges. $1.25. 

“ We do not think there is a poem in this 
book which it will not do one good to read ; 
while there are many which will quicken the 
ispirations and desires.” — Christian Weekly. 

The Flower of the Family. A Book 
for Girls. Cloth, lGmo. 400 pages. $1.50. 
“It aims to exact trivial home duty, by 
si wing how ench duty performed in the fear 
if God and the love of Chi 1st may lead np- 
wa-d and onward through present self-denial, 
to the highest usefulness, peace and joy.” 
The Percys. i6mo, cloth, 350 pages. 
$1 &A. 

“A nieture of a genial, happy Christian 
home;iftintly, without being sanctimonious; 
heaven’} , without a-ceticism or formality ; 
one too, wnich, when it sorrows, ‘ is always 
rejoicing ’ ” 

Only a D indelion. And other Stories. 

Ifimo, clo b, 300 pages. $1.25. 

“A collet tan of stories in Prose and Verse 
that cannot tVl to interest older readers, aa 
web as the cla .13 for whom they were specially 
prepared.” 

Henry and Bessie and What they 
Did in the Country. Cloth, l 6 mo, 20C 
pages, with il’ustrat ions. $ 1 . 00 . Adapted 
to children froru 7 to lrt year- of age. 

“ A charming story of a summer spent in 
the country, by * family of city children. 
The new scenes and the change in the daily 
life are portrayed inth unusual naturalness 
and simplicity. We know of no more beau- 
tiful book for the class of children for whom 
it was prepared.” 

Peterchen and Gretchen ; or, Tales 
from Early Childhood. Translated from 
the German. Cloth, lfimo, 225 pages, with 
Illustrations. $1.00. Adapted to children 
from 4 to 8 years of age. 

“One of the simplest and most pleasing 
books for young children with which we are 
acquainted. It lias all the quaiurness and 
homeness, iT we may use such a word, that 
belongs to the German-child’s book.” 

Little Threads, or Tangled Thread, 
Silver Thread and Golden Thread. 
Cloth, 16mo, 200 pages, with two illustra- 
tions. $ 1 . 00 . Adapted to children from 7 
to 10 years of age. 

“There are few children who would not be 
interested in this story, while it is full of 
; wise thought and suggestion for parents in 
matters penciling to the training of theix 
liule ones.” 

The above tnree volumes may alee be had A» 
1 the set. Price $3.00. 


Nidworth and his Three Magic 

Wands. Clot.', 10 ino, 280 pages. $ 1 . 35 . 

“There is ju-t enough of the fairy element 
In it to keep the children’s interest perpetu- 
ally awake, and &o much of high moral teach- 
ing that the main lesion cannot well be 
missed .” — Morning Star. 

Griselda. A Dramatic Poem, in five 
acts. Translated from the German of 
Friedrich Uolme. limo, cloth, $ 1 . 50 . 

“ It is as picturesque as the be*t of Tennv- 
eon’s Idyls, and it is a-> musical, though the 
music is rough' r, and less perlect in its 
cadent e .” — The Christian Intelligencer. 


Little Susy’s Six Teachers. Cloth, 
square lfimo, large type and & few illustra- 
tions. $1.00. 

Little Susy’s Six Birthdays. Cloth, 
square 16 mo, large type and a few illus- 
trations. $1.00. 

Little Susy’s Little Servants. Cloth, 

square 16 mo, large type and n few illustra- 
tions. $1.00. Adapted for children from 4 
to 6 years of age. 

“ There is nothing in the way of story books 
for young children that will compare with 
j the * Susy Books.’ ” 

The above three volumes may also be had br 
I the set at $ 3 . 00 . 


Fred, Maria, and Me, price $r.oo, and The Old Brown Pitcher, price $i.oo, 

are not published by Messrs. Randolph & Co., but can be furnished by them if desired. 

AXSON 1 ). F. RANDOLPH & CO., 38 West Twenty-third St.. New York. 

tiny or all of the above sent by mail , post-paid , on receipt of the price. Fractional amounts 
received in postage-stamps. 


I. 

A List of Mrs. Prentiss’ Writings, with notices of some of them and the 
dates of their publication : 

1. Lillie Susy's Six Birthdays. 1853. 

2. Only a Dandelion , and other Stories. 1854. 

The first piece, from which the little book takes its name, was written at the time, 
and is not excelled by anything of the kind written by Mrs. Prentiss. Spring Breeze ■ 
as fresh and delicate as a May (lower. The other stories are mostly a selection from hex 
early contributions to The Youth’s Companion. 

3. Henry and Bessie ; or. What they did in the Country. 1855. 

4. Little Susy's Six Teachers. 1S56. 

5. Little Susy's Little Servants. 1856. 

The three Little Susy books were republished in England, where they seem to have 
been as popular among the children as at home. Not far from 50,000 copies have bee* 
sold in this country. 

6. The Flower of the Family. A Book for Girls. 1856. 

This work has had a wide circulation at home and abroad. Some 19,000 copies have 
been sold here. # The following is the title-page of one of the French editions ; 

Le Fleur de La Famille 
ou 

Simple Histoire pour Les 
J : Lines Filles. 

Ouvrage Americain. 

Cinquieme Edition. 


Toulouse, 

Society des Livres Religieux. 

1877. 


Die Perle der Familie is the German title. Here are a few sentences from a highly 
laudatory notice in the well-known “ Neue Preuss. Zeitung” : 

In ausserordentlicher lieblicher und sinniger Weise wird uns ein hifusliches, schlichtes, 
von edlem Christlichen Sinn getragenes Familien-leben forgefiihrt, das dutch seine trefflicha 
Characters.childerung unser lebhaftestes Interesse Fur jedes died des kmderreichen Hauses in 
Anspruch nimmt. Es ist im eigen tlichsten Sinne ein Buch flir die Familie. 

T ie Flower of the Family was translated into German, — as were also Stepping Heav- 
enward, The Percys , Fred and Maria and Me, — by Miss Marie Morgenstem, of Gottin- 
gen. Some omissions in the version of Stepping Heavenward mar a little the vivacity of 
the book ; but otherwise her work seems to have been very carefully and well done, and 
to have met with the warm approval of the German public. 

7. Peterchen and Gretchcn ; or, Tales of Early Childhood, i860. 

This is a translation from the German. 

8. The Little Preacher. 1867. 

One of the most striking of her smaller works. It has throughout S' flavor of Ger- 
man peasant life and of the Black Forest. But if seems never to have found its way 
across the sea. 

9. Little Threads ; or, Tangle Thread, Silver Thread, and Golden 
Thread. 1868. 

The aim of Little Threads is happily indicated in its closing sentences : 

If you find that you like to have your own way a good deal bettei than you like your mamma 
to have hers ; if you pout and cry when you can not do as you please ; if you never own that 
you are in the wrong, and are sorry for it ; never, in short, try with all your might to be docile 
and gentle, then your name i^ Tangle Thread, and you may depend you cost your mamma many 
sorrowful hours and many' tears. And the best thing you can do is to go away by yourself and 
pray' to Jesus to make you see how naughty you are, and to make you humble and sorry. Then 
the old and soiled thread that can be seen in y’our mother’s life will disappear, and in its place 
there will come first a silver, and by and by, with time and patience, and God's loving help, a 
sparkling and beautiful golden one. And do you know of anything in this world you should 
rather he than Somebody’s Golden Thread ? — especially the Golden Thread of your dear 
mamma, who has loved you so many' years, who has prayed for you so many years, and who 
longs so to see you gentle and docile like Him of whom it was said : “ Behold the Lamb of 
Cod!” 

Little Threads is based upon a very keen observation of both the dark and the bright 
side of childhood. The allegory, in which its lessons are wrought, is, perhaps, less sim* 
pie and attractive than that of Little Susy's Six Teachers , or that of Little Susy's Little 
Servants; but the lessons themselves are full of the sweetest wisdom, pathos, and 
beauty. 

10. Little Icon's Sayings and Doings. 1 868.* 

Among the papers of her sister, Mrs. Prentiss found a journal containing numerous 
KtPe incidents in the early life of her only child, together with more or less of his boyish 
sa; mgs. Much of the material found in this journal was used in the composition of Lit • 
tL Lou ; and that is one thing that gives it such an air of perfect reality. 

11. Fred and Maria and Me. i863. 

12. The Old Brown Pitcher. 1868. 

This is a temperance tale. It was written at the 1 t of the National Temperance 
Society and issued for their press. 


APPENDIX, 


5 


13. Stepping Heavenward, 1869. 

Some interesting- details respecting this work have been given already. Its circulation 
has been very large, both at home and abroad ; far greater than that of any other of Mrs. 
Prentiss’ books. Id ore than 67,000 copies of it have been sold in this country ; while in 
England it was issued by several houses, and tens of thousands of copies have been sold 
there, in Canada, in Australia, and in other parts of the British dominions. 

Among the English houses that republished Stepping Heavenward, were James 
Nisbet & Co. ; Ward, Lock & Co. ; Frederick Warne & Co. ; Thomas Nelson & Sons, 
London and Edinburgh ; Milner & Co. ; Weldon & Co. An edition by the last-named 
house, neatly printed and intended specially for circulation in Canada and Australia, 
as well as at home, was sold at Cvepence, so that the very poorest could buy it. No 
accurate estimate can be formed of the number of copies circulated in Great Britain 
and its dependencies, but it must have been enormous. It was also issued at Leipsic, by 
Tauclmitz, in his famous “ Collection of British Authors.” The German translation has 
already passed into a fourth edition — a remarkable proof of its popularity. In the preface 
to this edition Miss Morgenstem, the translator, says : “ So moge sie denn hinausziehen 
in die Welt, diese vierte Auflage, moge wiederura aufldopfen an die Stuben und Herzen- 
thurenderdeutschen Lesewelt, und nachdem ihraufgethan, hineintragen indie Stuben und 
Herzen, was ihre Vcrgangerinnen hineintrugen; — l'reude und Rath und Trost.” Nowhere 
has the work won higher, or more discriminating, praise than in Germany. The follow- 
ing extract from one of the critical notices of it may serve as an instance : 

In Form von Tagebuch — Aufzeichnungen, somit Selbstbekenntnissen, wird irus das Leben 
liner Frau erzahlt, velche — ohne andere ciussere Schickungen freudiger und triiber Art, als 
,ie in jedem Leben vorzukommen pflegen — aus einem zwar gutartigen nnd wohlbegabtcn aber 
2 <tsserst reizbaren und leidenshaftlich erregten Miidchen zu einer gelauterten Jiingerin des 
Herrn heranreift. Was aber dies Buch zu einem wahren Kleinod maeht, das ish nicht die iiber- 
aus wahre und tiefe Analyse jerier menschlichen Siinde, Siindenschwachheit und Eitelkeit, die 
sich auch in die frbmmsten Regungen einuschleichen sucht, sondern die Angabe des wahren 
Heilmittels. Der goldne Faden namlich.der sich durch das ganze Buch zieht, ist die Wahrheit 
Nicht unser Rennen und Lanfen, sondern Sein Erbarmen I Nicht ivir haben Jhn geliebt 
sondern Er hat uns geliebt, und daran haben ivir kindlich zu glauben. Sich Jhm an Sein 

Herz werfen mit all unsern Schwiichen, all unser Arinulh— das ivirkt— ja das ist Heilung 

Das Ganze ist irn hCchsten Grade fesselnd. Man lebt sich unwillkurlich in dies christlichfl 
Hauswesen mit em, und glaubt in vielen Ziigen einen Spiegel des eigencn zu erkennen. 

The title-page of the French translation is as follows : 

MARCHANT 
VERS LE CIEL. 
par 

E. Prentiss. 

Auteur de La Fleur de la Famille, etc. 

Traduit de L’ Anglais avec 
L’Autorization de L’Auteur. 

Lausanne : 

Georges Bride), Editeur. 

The following extract from a letter of Madame de Prcssensd, dated Paris, July 18, 
1882, will show what impression the work made not only upon the gifted and accon* 

1 Allgemeirsr litcrarischer Ar.zeiger fur das evangelische Deutschland, Jan., 1873. 


6 


APPENDIX. 


pli^Med writer, but upon many Dther of the most cultivated Christian women of France 
and Switzerland : 

C’est un livre qui fait aimer celle qui y a mis son 5.me, une £tude du coeur liumain 
Dien vraie et bien delicate. L’amour de Dieu deborde dans ses pages charmantes, dont 
la lecture rechauffe le coeur. Je crois qu’il a ete fort apprecie dans nos pays de langue 
fran^aise. Une personne dont toute la vie est un service de ceux qui soulfrent me disait 
l’autre jour : “ C’est mon livre, il m’a fait beaucoup de bien.” 

Le nombre d’editions qu’a atteint la traduction framjaise temoigne qu'il a eu du sueces. 
et je suis sure que beaucoup de personnes ont prefere, avec raison, le lire dans l’original. 

Je suis heureuse que vous m’avez donne l’occasion de le relire, et d’en eprouver de 
nouveau la bienfaisante influence 

Ce serait un vrai privilege de pouvoir faire connaxtre d notre public fran<;ais cette 
femme aussi distinguee par le coeur que par l’esprit, que nous aimons tous. 

14. Nidworth, and his three Magic Wands. 1 869. 

The three Magic Wands are : Riches, Knowledge, and Love ; and in depicting their 
peculiar and wonderful virtues Mrs. Prentiss has wrought into the story with much 
skill her own theory of a happy life. She wrote the book with intense delight, and its 
strange, weird-like scenes and characters — the home in the forest; Dolman, the poor 
woodcutter ; Cinda, his tall and strong-minded wife ; Nidworth, their first-born ; 
wandering Ilidda, boding ill-luck ; the hermit ; these and all the rest— seemed to her, 
for a while, almost as real as if she had copied them from life. 

Its publishers (Roberts Brothers) pronounced Nidworth “a gem” and were not a 
little surprised at its failure to strike the popular fancy. It certainly contains some of 
the author’s brightest pictures of life and character. 

15. The Pcrcys. 1870. 

This work was translated into French and German, and won warm praise in both 
languages. It is full of spirit, depicts real boys and girls and a loving Christian mother 
with equal skill, and abounds in the best lessons of domestic peace. 

16. The Story Lizzie Told. 1870. 

17. Six Little Prvicesses and what they turned into . 1871. 

No one of Mrs. Prentiss’ lesser works betrays a keener insight into character or a finer 
touch than this. Its aim is to illustrate the truth that all girls are endowed with their 
own individual talents ; and to enforce the twofold lesson, that the diligent use of these 
talents, on the one hand, can furnish innocent pleasures beyond the reach of any outward 
position, however brilliant; and, on the other, is the best preparation for the day of 
adversity. 

The closing sentences of the stoiy will give an inkling of its aim and quality : 

“I see how it is,” said the Countess. “ You must live together. Each feels herself incom- 
plete without the others. Novella needs somebody to take care of her and somebody to love. 
In return, she will give love and endless entertainment. Reima, too, needs looking after, and 
some one will watch with a friendly eye the growth of her paintings. Our two musicians must 
not become one-sided by thinking only of melody and song. They must enjoy being clothed 
by Moina’s kind hands, listening to Novella’s poems, and discussing Reima’s works. And you 
must train all your ears to appreciate the talents of these two marvellous creatures who sing and 
play with such rare, such exquisite harmony.” 

“And what shall I do ? ” cried Delicieuse. 

“ You shall do a little of everything, dear child. You shall help Moina to guide the house, and 
Feima to mix the colors. You shall take care that the piano is never out of tune, oi Novella at 
a loss for pens and paper. In a word, you shall be what you always have been, always ready 
with the oil of gladness, wherever /*u set friction, the sweetest, the most lovabie creature in th* 
world.” 


APPENDIX, 


1 


Delicieuse smile'!, and ran to embrace all her sisters, hardly knowing which she loved best. 

It was not long before those royal maidens, royal only in their virtues and their talents 
Tound themselves in a home in a vine-clad land, where each could live as Nature had designed 
she should live. 

Moina, whose practical skill was not confined to her needle, kept the house with such exquis- 
ite care and neatness, that her sisters preferred it to a palace. She found happiness in forgetting 
herself, in her pride in them, and in the freedom from petty cares from which she shielded them. 
Her calm, serene character was a continual repose to the varying moods of Reima and Novella ; 
% balance-wheel to works that, running fast, often ran irregularly. Reima studied the old mas 
ters with no need for further travel, for her home lay among their works. 

Mosella and Papeta composed music, made Delicieuse listen to and admire it when othe. 
hearers were wanting, and were satisfied with her criticisms. 

Novella wrote books, and had her frenzies. She had her gentle and her gay moods, also, and 
made laughter ring through the house at her will. Not one of these four was conscious of hei 
powers, or asked for fame. Nor did their aristocratic breeding make them ashamed to work fot 
their bread. They even fancied that bread thus won, needed less butter to help it down, than 
that of charity. 

As to Delicieuse, she was the bright, the golden link that bound the household together in 
peace and harmony. Her smiles, her caresses, the love that flowed forth from her as from a liv- 
ing fountain, made their home glad with perpetual sunshine. Thank God for the gifts of genius 
He has scattered abroad with a bountiful hand ; but thank Him also that, without such gifts, 
one may become a joy and a benediction ! 

1 8. Aunt Janes Hero. 1871. 

This work was at once republished in England and appeared also in a French version. 

19. Golden Hours : Hymns and Songs of the Christian Life. 1873. 

Several of the pieces in this volume had already appeared ; among; them “ More Love 
to Thee, O Christ.” This hymn has passed into most of the later collections. It was 
translated into Arabic, and is sung in the land once trodden by the blessed feet of Him 
whose name it adores, and throughout the East. 

20. Urbane and His Friends. 1874. 

This work was reprinted in England. 

21. Griselda : A Dramatic Poem in Five Acts. Translated from the 
German of Friedrich Halm (Baron Mtinch-Bellinghausen). 1876. 

Mrs. Prentiss supposed that hers was the first English version of this poem. But 
there is a translation by Sir R. A. Anstruther, which appeared in London as early as 
1840 and in a new edition four years latei. All attempts to obtain a copy of this trans- 
lation in New York, or from London, have proved futile. 

22. The Home at Grey lock. 1876. 

The following extract from a letter of the author of the French translation to Mrs. 
Prentiss deserves a place here : 

Madame, — Vous savez sans doute que, sans votre autorisation, une plume, bi n bardie peut- 
fctre, tnais pleine de zfcle et de respect pour vous, s’est raise A traduire un de vos ouvrages, “ The 
Home at Greylock.” Sans votre autorisation! Etait-ce bicn ? £tait-ce mal ? Je me le suis 
demands plus d’une fois et je vous l’aurais demand^, Madame, si j'avais su votre adresse assez 
t8t. 

L’Aditeur m’a mis la conscience a l’aise en m’assurant que le droit ^tait le meme pour tous, et 
que les auteurs americains ne pouvaient concAder de privilege A qui que ce fut. Forte de cette 
assurance, je me mis d l’oeuvre, mais j’avoue que j’eus besoin d'encouragements rAit^rAs poui 
mener mon travail A bonne fin. Encore un mot duplication, si vous le permittez, Madame. Je 
ne suis pas mAre, mais je suis tante ; j’ai vu naitre mes neveux et nieces, je les ai bercAs dans tnefl 
bras, j'ai veillA sur leurs premiers pas, j’ai observA le dAveloppement graduel de leur cctur et de 


8 


APPENDIX, 


leur intelligence, j’ai send A fond combien l’ceuvre de l’6ducation eat sArieuse et combien il ip * 
porte d’dtre discipline soi-ineme par Ie Seigneur pour discipliner les petits confiAs A nos soins. II 
n’est done pas Atonnant que votre livre m’ait vivement intAressAe et que j’aie voulu le mettre A 
la portAe d’un grand nornbre. Cela eut et A fait t5t ou tard par d’autres,je ne 1’ ignore point; 
mais j’avais envie d’essayer raes forces, et . . . . l’occasion a fait le larron. Ne seriez-vous pas 
ma complice, Madame? .... 

M’appuyant sur votre bienveillame et sur la fraternitA qui unit les Smes dans le Seigr.eur, je 
vous prie, Madame, de ne pas me considArer comme une Atrang&re ct d’agrAer l'expression de 
mon estime et mes voeux en Christ. 

23. Pemaquid ; a Story of Old Times in New England. 1S77. 

24. Gentleman Jim. 1878. 

This little story was the last production of her pen and appeared a few days only 
after her death. 

25. Avis Benson ; or , Mine and Thine , with other Sketches . 1S79. 

This is a collection of pieces that had already appeared in the Chicago Advance and 
In the New York Observer. It met with a cordial welcome and has had a large circula- 
tion. 

Some of the readers of Mrs. Prentiss’ books may be glad to see a specimen of hex 
handwriting. The following is a fac-simile of the closing part of a letter to her cousin, 
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